


Walk a mile in my shoes

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Swap, Fluff, I guess this is becoming an Avengers crossover, The premise may sound silly but this is serious, lots of talking, the continuing reconciliation of Matt and Foggy (platonic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would it be like to wake up as someone else? Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson are about to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after my other post-season two stuff, but isn't dependent on them. All you need to know is that Matt and Karen are back together, and Matt and Foggy have started to rebuild their friendship. Matt and Foggy are the focus here. Karen is still in the story, but her relationship with Matt is not what this one is primarily about.

Karen woke up and yawned, luxuriating in the fact that it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to get up until she wanted to. She lay in her bed and looked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds, thinking about last night.

She, Matt and Foggy had all spent the evening together at Josie’s, for the first time in months. Matt and Foggy were cautiously repairing their friendship, and Karen heard from both of them that things were going as well as could be expected. But it was still rare for all three of them to spend time together. That all had separate jobs now, and were busy trying to get their lives back on track in the wake of the dramatic breakup of Nelson & Murdock. So last night had been something special.

The two men were easier around each other these days. It wasn’t the effortless camaraderie they used to share, not yet. Maybe not ever. But seeing them together last night, Karen could see that they both wanted to salvage something from the wreckage. As Foggy’s friend and Matt’s girlfriend, she couldn’t be happier about it. The three of them had talked and laughed and drank together, and if it wasn’t as relaxed as it would have been last summer, it was still a damn sight better than where they’d stood just a couple of months ago.

Karen had declined Matt’s invitation to go home with him at the end of the night, and insisted they both walk her home, in hopes that they would keep talking after they left her at her door. It wasn’t subtle—judging by the looks they gave her when they said goodnight, they both knew exactly what she was up to. But she was okay with that. Ever since she herself had reconciled with Matt, she’d been wishing for him and Foggy to patch things up. But she didn’t interfere, for the most part, leaving it up to them to sort out their issues. A little benign maneuvering to leave them alone together was forgivable, surely.

Karen smiled, feeling optimistic, and snuggled into her pillows for a little more sleepy time before she got up to start her day.

* * * *

Matt woke up and stretched, and immediately felt that something was…off. His body moved differently, somehow. The bedsheets didn’t feel right against his skin. His bedroom was strangely devoid of smells, and far too quiet. He opened his eyes, frowning—and sensory input slammed into him like a freight train.

At first he couldn’t comprehend what was happening, could only lie there stunned, a strangled sound of protest caught in his throat. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breathe. He felt his heart kick into overdrive, but he couldn’t hear it. He managed to turn his head, only to have the room swim sickeningly around him. He closed his eyes, fighting nausea, and curled into a ball, his breath abruptly coming back to him as hyperventilation.

_Panic._ He knew how to deal with panic. He forced himself to slow his breathing, counting in his head as he breathed in—held the breath—breathed out. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, breathing deeper, pushing air down to the bottom of his lungs. There was a faint, familiar smell in the air that he couldn’t identify in his confusion, but it comforted him.

After a while, when he could breathe normally again, and his heart had slowed its frantic hammering, he cautiously cracked open his eyes once more. And was immediately overwhelmed again. He screwed his eyes shut, and everything went back to familiar, featureless black. 

_But that means_ … No. Impossible. He’d been blind for most of his life, how could he be… _seeing?_ But what else could this be?

He opened his eyes. Made himself keep them open this time, and tried to pay attention, to make sense of the input. He’d had sight for the first nine years of his life, it wasn’t as if he’d never done this before. He moved his eyes around, keeping his head still, struggling to dredge up old visual memories and identify objects in the room. Bed, obviously. Lamp. Closet. Window.

He turned his head carefully, but this time he had a better idea what to expect, and the view changed without the sense of vertigo. Bedside table. Dresser. Doorway. But as he took in the room, something completely unexpected became clear: this was not his bedroom.

He uncurled from his fetal ball and turned over, and again the movement of his body felt _wrong_. He set aside the pillow he’d been clutching and looked down at himself, puzzled. He saw the shape under the bedclothes, then pushed back the covers and looked again. _That can’t be right?_

Not trusting his sight, he ran his hands over his torso, confirming by touch what his eyes seemed to be telling him. He was larger around the middle than he should be, and softer. He touched the places where he should have scars, and found only smooth skin. A prickle of unease crawled over his scalp and he sat up. 

_This was not his body._ He pushed away the impossible thought, but further investigation only confirmed it. His arms and legs were soft and unscarred, like his abdomen, and the hairs on them were _blond._ And as he moved, the familiar smell grew stronger, and he realized with a start that it was coming from himself, from this body.

_“Foggy,”_ he breathed, finally recognizing it, and lifted shaking hands to his face. He felt the shape of his features, the length of his hair.

“What does my voice sound like?” he said out loud. Like he was freaking the fuck out, that’s what his voice sounded like, it was shaking as bad as his hands. But it did sound…not exactly like Foggy’s voice, but more like his than Matt’s own. But of course it wasn’t exactly like. If he really was occupying Foggy’s body somehow, then he had Foggy’s normal, non-enhanced senses! That was why he couldn’t hear his own heartbeat, why it was too quiet, why he could hardly smell anything. Why he could _see._

That last thought propelled him to his feet, and he looked eagerly all around the bedroom. No mirror. Well, there was sure to be one in the bathroom. It was disorienting to navigate by sight instead of by feel, but he’d been in Foggy’s apartment before, he knew where the bathroom was. Moments later, he was staring at his own face in the bathroom mirror. Wide blue eyes stared back at him. He touched his face again, comparing what he felt with what he saw. _This is what Foggy looks like_ , he thought. He smiled at himself, a big, warm smile, and patted at his wildly disordered hair.

“Wow,” he said happily. “Look at you, buddy.”

But then a new thought hit him, and he watched his face shift from happiness to shock, and worry. _Foggy._ If Matt was in Foggy’s body, did that mean Foggy was in Matt’s? Blind, with all his other senses suddenly enhanced?

“No,” he told his reflection, his face gone pale. He stood appalled, remembering a terrified nine-year-old, and suddenly missing his father with a terrible, sharp sense of loss. “No no no. Foggy, no. I have to help him.”

He left the bathroom and looked around. Where did Foggy leave his phone? Damn it, he wasn’t used to all this visual input, it was distracting. But closing his eyes didn’t help, without all the input he was used to from his other senses. He took a deep, calming breath, and opened his eyes again. He was just going to have to get used to it, that’s all. Foggy needed him. He walked around the apartment determinedly, looking carefully at everything around him, trying to make his mind adjust. He used to be able to see. He _knew_ how to do this, it had just been a while.

And there, there on the table was an object that his visual memory from two decades ago would never identify as a telephone, but his hands knew it for what it was. Matt picked up Foggy’s phone and called himself.

* * * *

Foggy woke up to a disorienting confusion of noise and smell. _What the hell?_ Were there people in his apartment? He could hear voices, and water running, and pots and pans banging, and music playing, and more that he couldn’t immediately identify, but all of it too loud, too close, like it was right there in his bedroom with him. A noxious mix of smells assailed his nose—garbage, decay, his own body odor, food cooking, human waste, strong enough to make his stomach churn.

He opened his eyes and sat up, and started to yell “Hey—“ but didn’t get any farther. The sound of his own voice was deafening, and he fell back on the bed with a gasp and wrapped a pillow around his head to cover his ears. It took a moment in his shock for the other fact to register: opening his eyes had no effect on the blackness surrounding him.

For an instant he wondered if it was still night, but no, no night in New York City was ever as dark as this. Even if there were a power failure, even if every source of light in his apartment went out, there would still be light outside. Headlights on cars, if it _was_ still night. Moonlight, maybe. He looked toward the window fearfully and saw nothing.

“I can’t see,” he whispered, beginning to panic. He felt sweat burst from his pores. A rapid, relentless pounding in his ears made him want to run away, or possibly hide his head under the covers. He could feel a corresponding thumping in his chest, and realized it was his own heartbeat.

Anxiety roiled in his stomach, and abruptly the sickening stench in the air was too much, he was going to be sick. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and threw up over the side. The vomit burned coming up his throat, and the taste of it in his mouth was far worse than he expected. The splat as it hit the floor cracked like a whip in his abused ears, and the smell in the air got even worse. He gagged, tears coming to his eyes, and retched repeatedly until vomit gave way to dry heaves.

He flopped onto his back, exhausted and shaking, trying desperately to ignore another incomprehensible fact forcing itself on his awareness: his hair. When he threw up he’d reached up automatically to hold back his hair, only to find that his hair was now short. Not just the shorter cut he’d gotten before starting his new job, but _short._ He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to think about it.

Instead, he listened to the sounds enveloping him. They continued unabated, undisturbed by either his ill-advised yell or his bout of sickness. All the other people he was hearing didn’t seem to be hearing him. So it seemed likely that his apartment had _not_ been invaded by all his neighbors at once, no matter what his ears might think. Also, now that he was paying attention, he could hear the sounds of traffic, which couldn’t possibly be inside the apartment, even if they sounded like they were.

He absently wiped his mouth on his hand, trying to think, and froze, hand on his jaw. He could try not to think about it all he wanted, but that was far more stubble than he had ever grown in a single night. The drumbeat in his chest accelerated again.

“What’s happening to me?” he said out loud, his voice sounding thin and frightened…and completely unlike _his_ voice. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart. He cleared his throat, attempting to bring his voice into a more normal conversational tone, and said it again. And no, that was definitely not his voice. Just like this wasn’t his stubble, or his hair…or his blindness. Or his crazy, amped-up hearing, and smell, and… _holy shit._

It was impossible, of course. He couldn’t have turned into Matt. But his hands were already moving over his torso, and there were the scars, and there were the washboard abs in place of his own familiar soft belly. He touched his face, his hair. It was impossible, but it was undeniably true.

Just then, a familiar voice began speaking right next to him. “Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.”

“Yes? Hello?” he answered. The voice continued calling him, its inflection unchanging, mechanical. He knew that voice, but from where? 

“I’m here, who are you?” he asked anxiously, trying to force his overwhelmed brain to function. It sounded like…it sounded like Matt’s phone! He remembered now, he could hear that same voice in his mind saying “Karen. Karen. Karen.” It was saying “Foggy” because that’s who was calling!

He sat up, just as the voice stopped. Gone to voicemail. “No,” he breathed. “Call again, dammit, call again!” He reached in the direction the voice came from and found the bedside table. He fumbled around, touched the talking clock (“The time is…seven forty-eight” it informed him), and found the phone. He must be in Matt’s apartment, as well as Matt’s body. Did that mean Matt was in his body? Is that who was calling him?

“Call, again, _please_ ,” he begged the phone, and obediently it started speaking again.

“Foggy. Foggy.” He couldn’t _see_ , shit, but his fingers were already moving automatically, answering the call. Thank god for muscle memory.

“Hello?” he said hopefully. “Matt? Please be Matt, please be Matt—“

“It is, it’s me, Fog. Are you all right?”

“No! I can’t see, and it’s too loud, and everything smells terrible—“

“I know, buddy. I know.” His own voice in his ear sounded worried, and full of sympathy. “I guess that wasn’t the right question. But you’re not hurt? You haven’t—“

“Walked into a door?” Foggy asked. In his relief at having Matt to talk to, he couldn’t resist turning his favorite bullshit excuse back on him, but he was still on the edge of panic and it came out sounding sharper then he intended. He sighed. “No, man, I’m still in bed. I just woke up a few minutes ago and I’ve been…” he paused, unsure how to describe what he was experiencing.

“I know,” Matt said again, quietly.

“Yeah, I guess you do. I need to get up, though, the smell in here is horrific. I, uh, I threw up. On the floor.”

“I’m not surprised. Go out to the living room and close the bedroom door. It won’t block it completely, but it’ll help. My cane’s over by the front door, unfortunately, but you can feel your way without it. I’ll clean up when I get there.”

“You’re coming over?” God, he hadn’t wanted Matt this desperately since…maybe ever. Ever since he’d been left to defend Frank Castle in court all on his own, he hadn’t let himself want Matt this badly, or rely on him for anything, for fear of being disappointed again.

“Of course I’m coming over. I’m not leaving you to deal with this all by yourself.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“That’s it,” Matt told him. “Breath deep, it helps. It’s easier to filter the input if you’re calm.”

“Filter it? How do I do that?”

“Think of what you do if you’re trying to have a conversation with someone in a crowded room. You focus on the voice you want to hear, and ignore all the rest. It’s not easy, but it’s basically like that. I’ll help you, but you can try it for yourself until I get there.” He sounded so reassuring, like he knew Foggy could handle this. Like the way they used to encourage each other back in law school, when one or the other of them was stressing over a class.

“Okay, I’ll try it. Thanks, Matt.”

“You’re welcome. Listen, I’m going to call Karen. She should know about this, I think.”

“Oh. Shit, yeah. But will she believe it?”

“I think I can convince her. I can tell her things only I would know.”

Well, that was a subject Foggy had better not let himself think too much about. 

“Ask her to come over,” he suggested. “She can keep a level head if we both lose it.” As he said it, he realized he hadn’t even stopped to consider what _Matt_ must be going through right now. This affected both of them, not just him.

“Oh my god, Matt, are you okay? Dude, you can _see_. Are you freaking out?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and now Foggy noticed the tiny tremor in his voice. “It was worse at first, I’m getting used to it. At least I used to be able to see, this would probably be terrifying if I’d always been blind.”

“Are you going to be okay to get over here on your own? Have Karen pick you up.”

“That’ll take too long, I’m not leaving you there alone. I’ll be fine.”

“God, you stubborn idiot. You’re probably halfway here already, aren’t you?”

Matt laughed. “No. But I’ll be there soon.”

“If you walk into traffic, Murdock, I’ll kill you.”

“Foggy, I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” he grumbled. “Fine, just get here in one piece.”

“On my way.”


	2. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has passing references to things that happened in my earlier stories--To repair the things that have been broken, and To tell the truth. But it doesn't matter if you haven't read those, the references are pretty self-explanatory.

Karen was just getting out of bed when her phone rang. It was barely eight o’clock, who would be calling this early on a Saturday? She glanced at the screen. _Foggy._

“Morning, Foggy, what’s up?”

“Hi, Karen. Listen, something’s happened.” He sounded tense. “Something weird. I, uh.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I’m Matt. Not Foggy.” _What?_

“I’m hearing Foggy’s voice, and you’re calling on Foggy’s phone,” she pointed out.

“Yes. We’ve…” she heard a sigh. “We’ve switched places somehow. I’m in Foggy’s body, in Foggy’s apartment, talking on Foggy’s phone, but I’m Matt. I’ve just talked to Foggy, he’s in my body, in my apartment.”

She frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. People can’t just switch bodies, it’s impossible.”

“I know.” He sounded genuinely rattled, and Karen was starting to get worried. Why would he tell her such a thing, if it weren’t…

“Foggy, if this is some kind of joke—“

“No! No, Karen, I swear. It’s no joke. Just listen.” He took a deep breath. “The first time we kissed, after I told you the truth about me, was on the roof of a warehouse by the river. You refused to let me walk you home, but you agreed to start talking to me again.” She listened intently. Foggy knew that, she’d told him herself, but he wouldn’t joke about it. And he’s not finished.

“The first time we made love was at my place, when we were working together on the Adam Whitney case. You kissed me in the kitchen, and I wanted you so much I was afraid to believe you meant it. We made love twice, and you stayed the night, and I felt like the happiest man in the whole world.” She had never told Foggy more than just the fact that they’d done it. Had Matt? “The first time I told you I love you…” he paused, and she closed her eyes, remembering. No one else could possibly know this. “…was after you told me about the man you killed,” he finished quietly.

“Matt,” she whispered, shaken, and she could practically feel his relief through the phone. “Matt. How?”

“I don’t know. Both of us just woke up this morning in the wrong body. And I…” his voice choked up a little. “I can see, Karen.”

“Oh,” she murmured, stunned. “Oh, holy shit, Matt.”

“Yeah,” he said unsteadily, “yeah. But Foggy, he’s suddenly blind, and all his other senses are too strong, and he’s freaking out worse than I am.”

“Holy shit,” she repeated. “Oh my god, poor Foggy.”

“I’m going over to my place to help him, can you meet us there?”

“Of course I can. How can I help?”

“I don’t know, exactly. But we both want you. You believe me, and you’re close to both of us, and you can keep it together if we start to lose our shit, maybe that’s enough for now.”

“Are you all right? Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’d rather not wait. I want to get to Foggy as quick as I can. Just go to my place, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Karen had some doubts about that, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. If he wasn’t there already by the time she got there, she resolved, she would go and look for him. “All right,” she told him.

“Thank you. I love you, Karen.” She was caught off guard by how disconcerting it was to hear that said, with so much emotion, in _Foggy’s_ voice.

“I love you too, Matt. I’ll see you soon.”

She got dressed, trying to think. Last night, Matt and Foggy were themselves. What could have happened between then and now to cause this? As impossible as it was, she found it even more impossible to think that it happened spontaneously, for no reason. There had to be a reason, a cause, _something_. What did they do after they dropped her off? Maybe there was a clue there.

On her way over to Matt’s, she stopped at a bakery for coffee and bagels. She hadn’t had breakfast yet, and she was willing to bet they hadn’t either. They were probably both too shaken up to have even thought of it. _Stay calm, and make sure they eat something._ She could do that much for them, even if she couldn’t do anything else.

* * * *

Matt got dressed, moving around Foggy’s bedroom with more confidence now as he got used to being able to see. He combed his hair in front of the mirror, staring again at his (Foggy’s) face. He made sure he had Foggy’s wallet, Foggy’s phone, Foggy’s keys, before he headed outside.

But the world outside was a fresh shock. Nothing in the apartment had been _moving._ Out here, it seemed everything was moving. Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks. Vehicles filled the street, a bicycle weaving between them. Loose bits of paper and trash fluttered past in the breeze. A stray cat slunk into an alley, startling pigeons into flight.

The sickening feeling of vertigo returned, and Matt leaned back against the door, making himself breathe deeply. He looked instinctively for a stationary object to fix his eyes on, and stared at the building across the street, relegating all the chaotic movement to his peripheral vision.

And gradually, the vertigo passed. He blinked his eyes and carefully looked around. Better. He walked down the steps and his own movement disoriented him again, but only briefly. Good.

He heaved a sigh of relief, then tipped his head back to look up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, and he smiled up in awe at blue sky, white clouds, the sun not yet visible over the tops of the buildings. _I’d give anything to see the sky one more time._ There it was, just as beautiful as he remembered, but the cost was more than he could have imagined. He could see the sky only because Foggy couldn’t. He suddenly felt guilty, as if he’d stolen Foggy’s eyes, even though he never would have chosen to get his sight back like this. He stared up wistfully for a long moment, then turned and started walking.

The journey to his own apartment was unsettling. His unpracticed sense of depth perception was challenged by the long, straight street before him, and he was continually startled by unexpected movement in his field of vision.

The first time he had to cross a street, he discovered that he couldn’t quite tell how fast the cars were moving when they were coming directly toward him. He stood frozen on the curb, watching the traffic pass by, until a few more pedestrians came up behind him. He crossed when they did, anxiously relying on their judgement.

Everything was too quiet. He could see the normal bustle of the city all around him, but the amplified rush of sound he was used to was muted, making it all seem unreal. The reduction of smell was equally disconcerting. It was a relief in a way, the smells of the streets being what they were, but the loss still added to the sense of unreality.

He reached his apartment building safely and started up the stairs, only to pause halfway up. To his surprise, he was already breathing hard and starting to sweat. He had taken the stairs at his usual pace, not stopping to consider that Foggy’s body was less fit than his own. He didn’t want to stop so near his goal, but he took the rest of the flight more slowly, feeling an unaccustomed burn in his thighs as he walked down the hall to his apartment door.

* * * *

Foggy hung up the phone, and instantly all the sounds surrounding him seemed to grow louder. Keeping calm with an effort, he realized he’d been taking Matt’s advice without even thinking about it. During their conversation, he had automatically focused on Matt’s voice ( _his_ voice), paying no attention to the rest of the noise. The conversation over, it all came crashing back into his awareness.

He needed to talk, so he could concentrate his attention on his own voice. What did you say, when the only goal was to keep talking continuously? As he carefully climbed out of bed, skirting the vomit on the floor, he began Marc Antony’s oration over the body of Caesar (memorized for a high school English class). He exited the bedroom with the phone held tightly in one hand like a lifeline, sliding the door closed behind him and feeling his way along the wall to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet at the sink produced such a crash of water that it effectively muffled all other sounds.

He rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face, then brushed his teeth for good measure, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of stomach acid.

When he came out of the bathroom, he had a choice to make. Should he make his way directly to the couch, and wait there until Matt arrived? Or should he attempt the entryway, and try to find his cane? He didn’t feel ready to try crossing the open floor to the couch with nothing to hold onto, so he opted to feel his way around the perimeter of the room to the entryway.

“You got this, man,” he told the empty apartment as he set out. Oddly enough it heartened him, hearing Matt’s voice encouraging him, so he kept on. “You can do it, Foggy. I know you can. I have every confidence in you, buddy.” Past the stairs, past the closet where Matt kept his Daredevil gear.

“We never should have broken up the firm, Foggy. I should have tried to convince you to stay.” Where the hell had that come from? He liked his new job. Really, he did. Did he just want to hear Matt say it? “Foggy, you’re my best friend. I’m so sorry I let you down. I can’t believe I had my head so far up my own ass that I actually tried to push you away, so I could focus on single-handedly punching every bad person in this city. I am a reckless idiot and I don’t deserve you.”

In the entryway, he found the cane folded up on the bench inside the front door. He flicked it open with an automatic snap of his wrist, and decided his monologue-as-Matt had gone far enough. For the walk back to the living room, he recited Thurgood Marshall’s argument for the plaintiffs in Brown v. Board of Education (memorized in law school on a dare from Matt).

He tapped the cane back and forth in front of him like he’d seen Matt do a million times, and successfully crossed the room to the couch. Somewhat to his surprise, he hit the goal on his first try, with no fumbling around the chairs or the small table. Because he knew the layout of Matt’s apartment so well? Because Matt’s body just knew where to go? Matt had tried once to explain to him how he could sense the location of objects around him, but he couldn’t say he’d really understood it. His own control over Matt’s crazy enhanced senses was practically zero at this point; maybe he just got lucky.

He sat down on the couch and settled in to wait. It was a huge relief to know that Matt was on his way. Today, at least, he wasn’t going to let Foggy down.

He kept talking, focusing on the sound of his voice. He started summarizing the Lord of the Rings movies, as if he were describing them to someone who had never seen them, with full commentary on how they differed from the book. He’d gotten as far as the Battle of Helm’s Deep when he heard footsteps, and then a light tapping on the door.

“Foggy? It’s me, buddy,” he heard his own voice say, sounding like it was right beside him.

Damn it, he should have unlocked the door when he went to get the cane. “I’m coming,” he called, flinching at the volume. He stood up and tapped his way back to the entryway, one hand held out in from of him in case he misjudged the angle and walked into the kitchen shelves. But again, he hit the target unerringly. He walked more quickly along the entryway to the door, and opened it.

* * * *

The door opened, and Matt stared at the man before him. About his height, slender, muscular, dressed in nothing but the shorts he’d slept in, cane held in one hand. Rumpled brown hair, brown eyes pointed approximately at Matt’s chest, 24-hours’ growth of stubble on his jaw, a shell-shocked expression on his face. _My face,_ he thought. _This is what I look like._

He took a deep breath. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” Foggy answered with the ghost of a smile. He stepped back from the doorway and Matt walked in, closing the door behind him. Remembering what a comfort his father had been to him when he was overwhelmed and afraid, he turned to Foggy and pulled him into a hug without hesitation.

Foggy made a small, choked sound and put his arms around Matt’s middle, leaning his head on Matt’s shoulder. He heard Matt’s voice ( _his_ voice) murmur “I’m here, Foggy. I’ve got you, buddy.” A familiar smell surrounded him, the smell of himself, slightly sweaty (he must have climbed the stairs too fast). He’d never smelled himself this strongly before, but it wasn’t bad. It was a calm, reassuring smell somehow—was that how he smelled to Matt’s nose? Comforting?—and the soft body he was clinging to pressed solidly against him, a sturdy anchor in the mad upheaval of this day. Some of the tension drained out of him as his own arms held him tightly, his own voice talking softly into his hair.

“You’re doing great, Foggy. You found the cane, you walked across the apartment. That’s more than I could do on my first day.” Matt didn’t point out that on his first day, he was in the hospital. He still shuddered to remember the sounds and smells of hundreds of patients, the harsh reek of antiseptic, the relentless beeping of endless banks of monitoring equipment, a cacophony he’d been powerless to withstand. “I would've lost my damn mind if my dad hadn’t been there, so I’m not leaving you alone, okay? I’m here, I’m going to stay with you and help.”

Foggy nodded mutely and held on a little longer, before he lifted his head and stepped back.

“Thanks for coming,” he said hoarsely. “How was the walk over? You okay?”

Matt nearly said “Fine,” but stopped himself. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “All the movement, it’s…distracting. Gave me vertigo at first.” He bumped Foggy’s arm with his, and Foggy tucked a hand into his elbow as they walked to the living room. “My depth perception isn’t great, but it’s getting better. I made sure to cross streets with other people, or at traffic lights when I could.”

“Good.” 

They sat down together on the couch, and Matt asked, “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty awful, but I tried focusing my attention like you said, and it helps.”

“Good. I’ll help you as much as I can, but a lot of it is a matter of practice. You won’t get control over it all at once.”

“Matt, any kind of control at all is better than what I’ve got right now.”

“Yeah,” Matt said sympathetically and patted his knee. “I’ll be right back.” He walked to the kitchen, looking around him curiously. “Nice place I’ve got here,” he commented.

“Shame it isn’t nighttime,” Foggy answered. “You’re not getting the full effect of the billboard outside.”

Matt glanced out the windows and whistled softly. “Wow. No wonder no sighted person wanted it.”

He got out a bucket, warning Foggy, “I’m turning on the water.” While the bucket filled in the sink, he got out the bottle of cheap vodka he used to remove smells from fabric, and a bottle of water. He shut off the faucet and took the bottles over to Foggy.

“This one is for drinking,” he said, handing him the water, “And this one is for smelling,” handing him the vodka. 

“Smelling?”

“Smelling. I’m about to open the bedroom door and clean up the vomit, and you can use that to distract your nose.”

Foggy unscrewed the cap and sniffed experimentally, and immediately started coughing. “Holy shit. Go for it, I think my nose is paralyzed.”

Matt got the bucket of water and a sponge and went into the bedroom. Foggy listened to the sounds of the floor being cleaned, drinking his water gratefully and holding the vodka a judicious distance from his nose. He sighed.

“Thanks for doing that, dude, I really appreciate it. Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know _exactly_ how unpleasant it would be for you to try and clean it up yourself.” He came back out. “Do you want to put some clothes on before Karen gets here?”

Foggy actually smirked at him. “Nothing she hasn’t seen before,” he said, spreading his arms wide along the back of the couch with a grin.

“Oh my god,” Matt laughed, taking the bucket into the bathroom and flushing the water down the toilet.

“I hear footsteps,” Foggy announced, just as a knock sounded on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I memorized Marc Antony's oration for a high school English class, and I can still remember it pretty well. So I decided Foggy could, too.
> 
> I wanted to make it clear that this is hard for Matt, as well as Foggy, even if it's definitely worse for Foggy. I hope it's plausible that they can carry on a fairly normal conversation, despite how discombobulated they both are--if little blind Matt could still joke around with his dad in the show, then I figure Foggy can still joke a bit, too.


	3. Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Matt to give Foggy some practical assistance with his senses. But first, things are about to get a bit awkward.

The door opened, and Karen saw Foggy—no, _Matt_ —looking at her with wide eyes. He looked her up and down, and stared at her face as if…as if he’d never seen her before. Right.

She smiled at him. “Hi. So, yeah, this is me.” She waved a hand at herself.

“Uh, come in,” he replied with a dazed smile, stepping back from the door. Once inside, she set down the bag from the bakery and hugged him, and he pulled her close, rubbing his cheek in her hair. She could feel him trembling slightly, his heart beating fast, and tried not to be disconcerted at the feel of being pressed so close to _Foggy’s_ body. She’d hugged Foggy before, of course, but Foggy didn’t hug her like this. _Don’t make it weird,_ she told herself, _he’s upset enough already._

“How are you doing?” she asked, ruffling his hair.

He sighed. “I don’t know. It feels like the whole morning has been just one continuous shock,” he told her. “Some bad, some good.” He pulled away to smile at her, and caught sight of her expression.

“This is weird for you, right?” He asked. “Me being in Foggy’s body?”

She blushed, and nodded. “I know it’s still you, Matt. I thought I knew what to expect. But I didn’t anticipate…yeah. It’s weird. I mean, I hug both of you. But…”

He nodded. “It’s weird for me, too. You aren’t what I’m used to you being.” He paused, trying to analyze the difference. “Normally, I’d be hearing your heartbeat, your breathing, the swish of your hair, the rustle of your clothing. I’m not getting any of that now. And I can hardly smell you at all. You even _feel_ different in my arms, because my sense of touch is so much less.” He looked down, looked back up at her, and finished softly, “I’m afraid kissing you would be like kissing a stranger. I _want_ to, but I also don’t want to, I don’t want to risk having such a good thing feel _wrong._ ”

“Oh.” She hadn’t anticipated that _he_ might feel hesitant about it, but it’s a relief. Mostly. “Well, I’m afraid kissing you would be like kissing Foggy.” She gave him an embarrassed little smile. And then remembered that Foggy could probably hear them. “Which would not be terrible,” she continued, glancing anxiously toward the living room, “It’s just…” 

“I know,” he assured her. “I’m sure he knows, too. It’s all right, Karen.” He hugged her again, and she made a small, mortified sound against his shoulder. “It’s just awkward. We can manage a little awkward.” Then he pulled back and smiled at her again, looking into her eyes. “But this—to finally be able to see your face—this is amazing.” He reached up to stroke her cheek, his expression a mixture of wonder and tenderness.

“I’m glad you can, too,” she told him, resolutely ignoring how unsettling it was to see that expression on Foggy’s face. She took his hand, and they walked together to the living room.

Observing the figure on the couch, Karen greeted him with determined lightness, setting the bakery bag on the table. “In his underwear, with a bottle of vodka in his hand. You’re living right, Foggy.”

He laughed. “The vodka is for my nose, to block out all the things I can smell. I, uh. I threw up earlier, and Matt’s been cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no,” she said sympathetically, walking over to stand in front of him. “Come here,” she added, tugging on his hand, and he put down the bottle and stood up for a hug.

As Karen’s arms closed around him, Foggy was surrounded by a fresh wave of sensation. All the sounds of her that Matt had just been describing in the entryway. The feel of her arms against his bare back, her body touching his. The smell of her, pleasant and familiar. 

The small stir of interest between his legs would ordinarily have been no big deal, easily ignored. But not now, with amplified senses he couldn’t control. The increased blood flow into the most sensitive part of his body felt so good that it began to feed on itself, the pleasure of it prompting an even greater increase, until what should have been just a passing twinge of desire quickly became a much bigger problem. Foggy stood transfixed, too overwhelmed to even feel embarrassed, even though he knew the shorts he was wearing weren’t hiding a thing.

Karen stepped back, and exchanged a startled look with Matt.

“Dude,” said Foggy, awestruck. “Dude. This is just—how do you cope with this? This is _amazing_.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Stick trained me before I’d hit puberty,” he answered. “I had much better control over my senses then you currently have, by the time it was an issue. But that’s not to say it wasn’t a huge shock the first time it happened, because it absolutely was. And I can promise you, it’s going to feel a lot less amazing if it lasts too long.”

“Oh,” said Foggy, considering the implications. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound good.” He summoned up his usual mental tricks for warding off inconvenient boners, but to no avail.

“I’m too distracted,” he said anxiously. “How do I get rid of it? I mean, there’s the obvious. But that’d be awkward, for me to jerk off your dick. Wouldn’t it? My judgement’s a little impaired right now, but I feel like that would be awkward.”

Matt’s jaw dropped a little, but he quickly recovered. “Imagine you’re in a Catholic orphanage full of disapproving nuns,” he suggested. “Sit down. And Karen, it might help if you’re further away from him, so he can’t sense you so strongly.”

Karen retreated to the kitchen, feeling flustered. She had intended the hug to be a gesture of sympathy and comfort, not a sexual stimulant, but she knew she had reacted, a little, to the feel of _Matt’s_ mostly-naked body in her arms. God, this was confusing. 

Then a new thought made her face flame. “Thank goodness I didn’t spend the night here,” she said. “We might have woken up in bed together.”

There was a moment of stunned silence—clearly that hadn’t occurred to either of the men until now. “Karen, that is _so_ not helping,” Foggy answered, while Matt just muttered, “Holy shit.”

Then he pulled himself together. “All right, Foggy, focus on my voice.” He began reciting what sounded to Karen like legal statutes of some kind, very dull. Perfect.

“You can say that from memory?” Foggy asked, incredulous. “You giant nerd, no wonder you got summa cum laude.”

“Do you want my help, or not?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry. Please, help me with my boner.”

Matt snorted softly, and continued his recitation. Foggy concentrated on his voice, trying not to think about anything else, and the tent in his shorts began to soften and wilt. As the amazing feeling subsided, embarrassment returned, and he blushed scarlet.

“Sorry, Karen,” he said. “That wasn’t—I’m not—“

Matt rescued him. “It’s not your fault,” he said reassuringly. “You’ve got my body, and my body really likes being close to Karen.”

Of course, that might not be the whole story. They all knew that Foggy had been interested in Karen at one time, back when they had first met. But there was no point in embarrassing him any further by mentioning it, she thought firmly as she returned to the living room. Blaming it on Matt’s body was a good face-saver.

“You don’t raise the flagpole that fast every time you touch her, though,” Foggy said.

“Well, no.” Matt ducked his head and smiled a little. “Not _every_ time.” He looked up at Karen, still smiling, and shit, that intimate little grin was another expression she was not prepared to see on Foggy’s face. But she tamped down her discomfort and grinned back. _Get a grip,_ she told herself sternly. _They’re counting on you to keep your shit together. He can’t help whose face he’s wearing._

Matt turned back to Foggy. “It’s just a matter of control,” he told him. “You know how to prevent a boner under normal circumstances. The process is still the same, your sense of touch is just a lot more sensitive now. Now you know what to expect, it won’t take you by surprise again.”

“If you say so,” said Foggy dubiously. “If it does happen again, I’m sorry, Karen.”

“It’s all right,” she replied, sitting down at the small table. “Please don’t worry about it, I won’t be offended.” She firmly changed the subject. “Are you guys hungry? I brought breakfast, I figured you’d both be too distracted to make anything.”

They joined her around the table, although Matt advised Foggy against drinking coffee (“Too strong a flavor if you aren’t used to it, and the caffeine will raise your heart rate.”) and made him some herbal tea instead.

“You seem to be coping really well, Foggy,” Karen remarked as they ate. “You’re kidding around like everything’s fine.”

He sighed. “Sheer bravado,” he told her. “Everything is not fine, at all. My heart’s going like a jackhammer from stress. But it’s better with you guys here. Before, when I was alone, I was on the verge of panic pretty much continuously. It’s overwhelming. It sucks.” He turned to Matt. “How the hell did you cope with this, when you were just a kid?”

Matt stared into his coffee. “Not very well,” he said. “I lost my shit completely, when it first happened. I’ve never been so scared in my life. But my dad was a big help. He didn’t really understand what I was going through, but it was such a relief just having him there, telling me it would be okay—you’re right, it’s much harder alone. After he died…” He looked bleak. “After he died, things got pretty bad for a while,” he concluded quietly.

“Poor little guy,” Foggy said feelingly.

“I don’t know how Stick found out about me, he never told me. But he knew how to help. He taught me how to control my senses. I’ll teach you, Foggy, and I won’t be an asshole about it like he was.”

So that’s how they spent the morning. Matt found that explaining something that he did automatically after all these years, without even thinking about it, wasn’t necessarily easy. Especially now that his own senses were back to normal. But he dredged Stick’s lessons up out of his memory and did his best. He stayed close to Foggy, sitting with him on the couch, their legs brushing or his hand on Foggy’s arm, always touching or close to it.

He watched Foggy closely as they worked, studying his face. _His own_ face. Most of his attention was on his instruction, but a corner of his mind was trying to remember his father’s face, looking for a resemblance. He looked over his body, noting the old scars, a few fresher scrapes and bruises. This was what Foggy saw, what Karen saw, when they looked at him. And he had to admit, some of the injuries looked nasty. A part of him wondered uneasily how he would feel, if he saw injuries like that on either of them, and they tried to brush it off as nothing.

He snuck looks at Karen now and then, where she sat watching them. Knowing the shape of her features under his fingers wasn’t the same as _seeing_ every shift and change of expression as they happened. She had been animated over breakfast, talking and laughing, and it had been hard not to stare. Now she was still, intent, but that was interesting, too—he could imagine her looking like that while she tracked down a lead, digging through files with that same absorbed expression.

The only face he couldn’t study was the one he was inside—Foggy’s. But he did what he could, taking time to look in the mirror whenever he went into the bathroom.

Karen sat and observed, feeling superfluous, but deeply interested. She might not be able to do much to help Foggy, but she felt like she was learning a lot about Matt by listening to him explain his abilities. She was still anxious to figure out how the two men had been switched, and how to switch them back. She wanted to ask them questions, to see if they had any ideas. But clearly, the first priority was getting Foggy comfortable in his new state, or at least able to function better. She could wait.

Foggy was feeling calmer now that they were doing something definite to manage his problem. And Matt was right, his concentration was better when he was less agitated. But it still wasn’t easy. The techniques Matt taught him were straightforward enough, but the constant, relentless barrage of input made them difficult to implement.

He tried to be patient, but he knew his frustration was showing. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t deserve this—but neither did Matt, and he’d been living with it for twenty years. _Get over yourself, Nelson._ He sighed, discouraged.

“It takes practice,” Matt reminded him, putting an arm around his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. “It’s like exercise—“

“Dude, you know how I feel about exercise.”

“Yeah, I do.” 

Foggy heard a subtle difference in his voice, and tipped his head toward him. “Matt? Are you smiling?”

“Yes.” 

Foggy grinned. “Your voice sounded different. I could hear it!” It was a small thing, but suddenly he felt happier.

“Really? I’m impressed, Foggy. I’ve been starting out by giving you some fairly blunt tools, just to reduce the amount of input, but that’s a much more subtle distinction.” Matt felt a little bemused. He hadn’t been nearly as quick at reading people that way. But then, this was Foggy. “You’ve always been good with people, that’s probably helping.”

Foggy looked relieved. “I’m glad I’m good at _something_ about this. It’s really, really not easy.”

Matt nodded. “I remember. It’s exercise, like I said. I can teach you how to do it, I can provide you with specific input to focus on,” and he squeezed Foggy’s arm, “but after that it’s just practice.”

“Specific input,” Foggy repeated. “Is that why you’re touching me so much?”

“Would you rather I didn’t?” Matt asked uncertainly.

“No, no, it’s good. It’s just…normally I’m the one with no sense of personal space, did you somehow get that, too, when you got my body?”

Matt laughed. “No. It is partly to help you focus. But not entirely. I know…for me, at least, touch became a lot more important when I couldn’t see anymore, as a connection to other people. When you can’t see the people around you, if you can’t touch them either, it’s very isolating. It got better later on, after I had some control over my abilities. But at first…I’m lucky my dad was an affectionate guy, it made such a difference.”

“Was he?” Foggy asked curiously. He had the impression that boxers weren’t always great at showing their feelings.

Matt smiled. “C’mere, kiddo,” he answered, imitating his father’s voice, pulling Foggy into a rough hug and tousling his hair. He thumped him on the back and let him go. “Now finish your homework. I never studied, and look where it got me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Foggy said, grinning. But then his grin faded. “After he died…” he paused, unsure what he wanted to ask. But Matt answered anyway.

“After he died, I went into the orphanage. They took care of us, but it was fairly impersonal. Not a lot of touching. And the nuns watched us kids like hawks, to make sure we weren’t touching each other too much…”

“Catholics,” Karen muttered darkly from her chair.

“Yup. So, yeah, that’s how it was. After I was trained, I could use my other senses to sense the people around me. But still. Touch _matters_. That’s why I’m sticking so close to you today. I _know_ what a difference it makes, and what it’s like to live without it. You have no idea what a shock it was, Foggy, the first time you ever hugged me back in college.”

“I kinda do, actually. You looked like a deer in the headlights, and I got worried that I’d just seriously overstepped. But then you grabbed on and hugged me back, so I figured we were okay. However, I seem to recall that I wasn’t the only one touching you by that point.” He raised his eyebrows significantly, and Matt’s cheeks turned pink.

Karen grinned at him. “Sexy touching?” she guessed.

“Sexy touching,” he confirmed. Then he looked thoughtful. “Maybe I just wanted someone to touch me,” he mused, half to himself. He looked at Foggy. “Maybe none of my college relationships lasted because I didn’t know what I really wanted? I mean, I definitely wanted sex. But maybe sex was also just the easiest way for me to get…contact. Just touching of any kind. I dated some women, for sure, who the _only_ reason we were together was the sex.” He made a face. “If I’d had half a clue, I might have made better choices.”

“Dude, everyone makes bad relationship choices in college. I’m pretty sure that’s part of what college is for.”

“Hear, hear,” Karen agreed.

“Well, it’s worked out all right in the end, anyway.” He smiled fondly at Karen, and she smiled back. (It was fine, she was _fine_ ).

“Karen, are you all right?” Foggy asked suddenly.

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“Your heartbeat,” he clarified. “It’s mostly been pretty steady, but once in a while it jumps, even though you’re sitting still. What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Foggy, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Your heart just sped up when you said that,” he informed her, and shit, now Matt was looking concerned.

“Oh!” Foggy exclaimed, realizing. He turned to Matt. “That’s what you listen for, to see if someone’s lying, isn’t it? That was a lie.”

Karen felt a stab of anger. Foggy noticed.

“Heartbeat,” he said, frowning, “and…” he leaned forward, extending a hand toward her. “You’re giving off more heat. Is your face red? I bet it is. Are you embarrassed? Or…or are you angry?” He looked intent, like she was a puzzle to be solved, and it just made her angrier.

She took a deep breath, willing her betraying heartbeat to slow. “I am angry,” she told Foggy calmly, “because I have feelings that are no one else’s business, and you are trying to drag them out into the light. I understand that it’s important for you to figure it out, like before when you knew Matt was smiling. But think how I feel.”

“Oh.” Foggy visibly deflated. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Karen.” He turned to Matt. “I got mad at you for this, last year when you first told me about your senses. I said it was creepy and invasive. And now I’m doing it. Shit.” He studied Matt, and hesitantly added, “And you’re mad at me for it. Aren’t you?”

Matt felt a moment of irritation at being read so easily, then sighed. “I know, better than anyone, that you can’t help noticing these things. But yeah, I’m a little annoyed. Can you see now, why sometimes I let it go when I know someone’s said something untrue? It’s not _just playing along,_ it’s trying to give other people a bit of privacy.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry I yelled at you last year.”

“I’m understanding a little better why you did, to be honest. It’s different being on the receiving end, or seeing you do it to Karen.” Matt frowned for a moment, then smiled and bumped his shoulder gently against Foggy’s. “But the good news is, you’re making really good progress.”

Karen sat quietly, hoping they’d both forgotten what started them on this tangent in the first place. But no, Foggy turned back to her, and he didn’t say anything this time, but she could tell he wanted to. He sat there looking troubled, and Matt was carefully not looking at her, and really, there was no point making it into a bigger deal than it actually was.

“All right,” she said, resigned. “It’s honestly not that important, but I don’t want you both worrying and thinking it’s worse than it is.” She paused, organizing her thoughts. “It’s just unsettling, a little, seeing some of Matt’s expressions on Foggy’s face, that’s all.” At Foggy’s puzzled look, she clarified. “The way he looks at me, I mean. Like he loves me. With your face. No offense, Foggy, you know I care about you, just not—“

“No, I get it,” he said quickly. “You don’t want _me_ looking at you like that, and that’s what you’re seeing. No offense taken.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s really not that big a deal, and anyway there’s no help for it. It’s nobody’s fault, and it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Matt looked stricken. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have realized. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, should I not…”

He trailed off, but she knew what he wanted to ask, and suddenly felt sure that would be worse. She crossed to the couch and sat on the arm next to him, putting her arm around him and looking into his sad eyes. “Matt, no. Don’t try to hide your feelings. Please. I can handle this better than I could handle you trying to act like you don’t love me. Don’t do it, okay?”

She drew his head in close to rest with his ear against her chest, and for the first time all day he could hear her heart, beating steadily.

“Okay,” he whispered, putting his arms around her waist and holding on.

“You all right?” she asked, resting her chin on the top of his blond head.

He nodded. “Better, like this. It’s good to hear your heart. All day I’ve been missing most of the sounds, and smells, and feelings on my skin, that I’m used to.” He sighed. “I don’t mean to complain, though. I mean, I can _see_ , I’m fine.”

Karen smiled, fond and exasperated. “Matt. Everything about how you perceive the world just changed overnight. You don’t have to be fine. You’ve been trying to help Foggy feel better all morning, you’re allowed to want some help, too.” She rubbed his shoulders. “So it helps, hearing my heart?”

“Yes. It’s something familiar. Everything else is so different. This is nice.” He stayed there a little longer, comforted as much by her acceptance of the whole situation as by the sound of her heart.

“What a morning,” Karen murmured.

“Is it still morning?” Foggy asked. “What time is it? I feel like we’ve been working for hours.”

Matt sat up and reached for his wrist automatically, then remembered that the watch he was wearing didn’t have the raised numbers and hands he was used to. He looked at the face. “We have. It’s a little past noon. What should we do about lunch?”

“I can go and pick something up,” Karen offered. “What do you suggest, for someone with a newly-enhanced sense of taste?”

They discussed the available options, and ten minutes later Karen stepped out onto the sidewalk, with Matt’s keys, and his promise that he would call, if anything bad happened while she was out. She looked up at the sky, glad it was such a nice day for Matt’s sake, although she knew he wouldn’t complain if it were cloudy, or even raining.

She started down the street, looking at everything around her with extra attention, trying to imagine how it would feel to see these sights after two decades of blindness. The sun was high in the sky now, and as she glanced east along the length of 42nd Street, it gleamed on the shining, glass-and-steel monolith of Avengers Tower in the distance.

Karen stopped, staring at the tower like a tourist.

She had an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly difficult to get right, there are so many possibilities for awkwardness in this situation. I had to decide which ones to address, and how far to go. And, of course, there are opportunities for Matt and Foggy to start understanding each other's perspectives as they interact, with Karen acting as a useful catalyst.
> 
> And even though this is mostly about the boys, I don't want to overlook the fact that this is challenging for Karen, too, even though she isn't directly affected.


	4. Explaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the boys are about due for a good talk, don't you?

After Karen left, Matt and Foggy sat silent for a moment. This was the most time they’d spent together since their estrangement, and now that there was no immediate necessity claiming their attention, they were both realizing it.

The few times they had met up recently, they hadn’t discussed their fight. The wounds were too fresh, the ground felt too fragile. By unspoken agreement, they kept things light, simply spending time together and seeing if they could still enjoy each other’s company. The wounds were slowly healing, but the underlying conflict remained unaddressed and unresolved.

But this morning, something had shifted. Foggy was being forced by circumstances to rely on Matt once more. And Matt was there for him, giving him not just the practical help he needed, but encouragement, comfort, unstinting support.

Neither of them was ready to ask if their new rapport had any application outside of this one, specific, incredibly unlikely situation. But they were both glad to have it.

Matt glanced toward the closet at the end of the living room.

“There’s something I want to see,” he told Foggy, standing up and crossing the room. Foggy heard the door opening, and the slide of the trunk across the floor.

“Isn’t that where you keep your Daredevil stuff?” he asked.

“Yes. But that isn’t all that’s here.” He opened the trunk, and a new thought struck him: _I can’t be Daredevil like this._ All morning he’d been focused on the present, but now for the first time he considered the future implications of their predicament. _What if this is permanent?_ He shivered. But what could he do about it? How do you change the impossible? He put the thought aside and reached into the trunk, bringing out a satin robe, dark red edged in yellow, and a grainy old photograph. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat as he looked at his father’s face for the first time in twenty years.

Foggy heard Matt’s heartbeat accelerate and came to sit beside him. Matt was very still next to him as he looked at whatever he’d taken out of the trunk. Foggy had heard the swish of fabric, but it didn’t leave him any the wiser. Matt’s breathing had changed, too. Was he all right?

“What have you got there, Matt?” he asked softly.

Matt shook out the robe wordlessly and put it in Foggy’s lap. Foggy felt the cool, slippery satin, the shape of the hood, the sleeves, and finally found the lettering blazoned across the back. He traced the letters with his fingers. He caught his breath partway through, but kept going until he had spelled out all three words.

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock. Dude, I never knew you had this.”

“He got it right before his last fight, after I was blind,” Matt answered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never seen it before. I have, uh, an old photo, too. I kept it, even though I couldn’t…this is all I have left of him.”

For once, Foggy was at a loss for words, and he put an arm around Matt’s shoulders. He didn’t question the impulse—it seemed perfectly natural to want to comfort Matt for a pain that wasn’t related to their own conflict. Now that he knew Jack Murdock had been the only comfort his young son had after the trauma of all of his senses being altered, he was all too aware of how devastated Matt must have been to lose him.

Matt shifted closer, and reached for his hand. “I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot today,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, of course you have.” Foggy hesitated. There was a question he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Matt…why didn’t you tell him? About your senses?”

Matt sighed. “I tried to, at first. In the hospital. I thought the doctors would be able to help. But no one understood. I wasn’t very coherent, and Dad must have thought it was just the shock, and pain, and fear. The doctors talked a lot about subjective perception, and compensating for what I’d lost, and the upshot of it was, they didn’t believe me. Once I understood that they couldn’t help, I stopped talking about it and let them think what they wanted.”

“But later, after you went home…?”

“I didn’t want him to worry. There was nothing he could do about it, and he had enough on his plate already. Being a single father was hard enough, now he was a single father of a child with a major disability.”

“So that’s a lifelong thing, then,” Foggy said, shaking his head. “Insisting you’re fine, and not wanting anyone to worry about you. Buddy.” He was silent for a moment, but he had another question, and it didn’t seem like there was ever going to be a better time to ask it.

“Why didn’t you tell me, then? I don’t mean when you first met me, I can understand that. But why not later?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, Fog. Ever." Matt sounded sad. "And you’re not just anyone, but it took a while for me to know that for sure. If you had turned out to be a friend just until we finished law school, and then we were going to drift apart, then you didn’t need to know.”

“Did you think that’s what was going to happen?”

“At first, yeah. And even after we got to know each other better, after we got closer, I couldn’t be sure. I _wanted_ us to stay friends. But I never assumed you were going to stay in my life.” He ran his hand over the satin robe, and added under his breath, “No one else ever did.”

Foggy lifted his head sharply. He knew enough about Matt’s life to know it was true. His father hadn’t chosen to leave, but he was still gone, and Matt didn’t seem to have any other family. Stick had left abruptly, without a backward glance, after training him. He had no close ties now with anyone he’d known in the orphanage. There were no friends or lovers in his adult life, besides Foggy and Karen, that had lasted. People came into Matt’s life, and then went back out of it. But still, it hadn’t occurred to Foggy that Matt _expected_ people to leave him. That he had expected _Foggy_ to leave him.

Foggy himself had a large extended family, and he had always made friends easily. He knew, of course, that not all of them would be permanent. But he tended to assume that he’d at least stay in touch with the ones who mattered the most. And he’d known Matt was one of those from very early on in their friendship. It was a shock to find that Matt hadn’t realized that.

For a guy who could tell if someone was lying, Matt was startlingly bad at understanding people sometimes.

Foggy didn’t mention the drunk plans they’d made, before they even finished school, to start their own firm together some day. If Matt thought he hadn’t meant it, he didn’t want to know. Instead, he asked, “What about when we got internships together? You still weren’t sure then?”

“I was starting to believe you’d stay, by then. But by then, I’d also been hiding my secret from you for years. I knew you’d be upset, if you knew I’d kept it from you all that time. It felt like it was too late. Because I’d hidden it for so long, now I _had_ to keep on hiding it forever. I know that’s cowardly, and selfish. And I definitely should have told you before asking you to go into business with me. Like you said, that means sharing everything. But I was afraid.” He sighed again. “By the time I was sure you were going to stick around, I was afraid telling you the truth would drive you away.”

 _And I was right._ He didn’t say it, but Foggy could see that the way he had reacted when he finally learned the truth was exactly what Matt had been afraid would happen.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said quietly. “It was never a question of not trusting you, or not caring about you. And I never wanted to hurt you, I hope you can believe that, at least. I just didn’t know what else to do. You’re the first person who ever stayed in my life long enough for it to be an issue.”

Foggy could hear Matt’s heartbeat, strong and steady, telling him that Matt meant every word he said. He felt a little guilty, using Matt’s abilities against him, but he had to admit it was a useful skill. Especially for a conversation as fraught as this one was becoming. They both needed honesty now, and for once Foggy could be absolutely sure he was getting it.

“Would you ever have told your dad, if he had lived?”

Matt thought about it. “Maybe. When I got older, when he didn’t have to take care of me as much. I suppose he’d be hurt I didn’t tell him sooner. But he wouldn’t—“ he broke off abruptly.

“He wouldn’t have left you like I did,” Foggy finished. “Of course he wouldn’t, he was your father. Maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of people leaving you, if you still had him.”

“Maybe.” Matt hesitated, then added, “I used to blame myself for his death.”

“What?” Foggy knew Matt always took too much on himself, but this was a whole new level. “Matt, it was a mob hit. How could that possibly be your fault?”

“He won the fight they told him to lose. I thought he did it because I wanted so much for him to win. I believed it was my fault, until Stick told me that was bullshit. He said my dad won the fight for the sake of his own pride, and I shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“Huh,” said Foggy, surprised. “You always say Stick was an asshole, that’s the first decent thing I’ve heard about him.”

“It’s really not,” Matt answered. “He was trying to teach me that emotions were a weakness. He wanted a soldier he could recruit into his crazy war. He taught me to fight, and he wanted me to be willing to use those skills to _kill_. He didn’t want me to feel guilt, any more than he wanted me to feel love. It wasn’t kindness, believe me.”

Foggy winced at the bitterness in his voice. “Jesus,” he muttered. Matt had been what, ten years old or so? No wonder he was messed up.

“He turned up once last year, you said?” Matt’s apartment had gotten trashed, right before Foggy had found out the truth, and Matt had eventually explained that he had fought his old teacher.

“Yeah. He’d heard about the masked vigilante, and figured out it was me, and he tried to recruit me again. I told him to go to hell. I didn’t want anything to do with him, or his war.”

“Until Elektra turned up again.” Foggy couldn’t help the edge of bitterness that crept into his voice. He wasn’t trying to hurt Matt, but he had never understood how he could destroy all his other relationships so comprehensively for the sake of someone who had hurt him so terribly. “As soon as she walked back in your door and said ‘Matt, I need your help,’ you signed right up.”

“I didn’t—“ Matt began angrily, but then he paused. Yelling at Foggy was the last thing he wanted to do. And they had never talked about this, so he could imagine what it must look like from Foggy’s point of view.

“I didn’t know she had anything to do with Stick’s war, not at first,” he said instead. “And I told her to stay the hell away from me. But she didn’t. She deposited that huge fee into our account, and I’m sure she knew how broke we were, how much we needed the money.”

He sighed. “So then I went to her. And I didn’t tell you and Karen what I was doing. I thought…I thought it would be simple. I’d help her with her problem—she gave me some story about her assets being tied up in shady business dealings she wanted no part of—and that would be the end of it. As if anything involving Elektra was ever simple.”

“You thought it was perfectly reasonable to withhold, from your business partner and your maybe-girlfriend, that you were having business dealings with the most traumatic of all your exes?”

“I thought I could handle it,” said Matt, a little defensively. “I thought it would be over quickly, and I could tell you about it after. But then, when it got more complicated…I chose to keep on helping her, you’re right. Each individual decision I made seemed reasonable at the time. Even after I knew that it was Daredevil’s help she wanted, not Nelson & Murdock’s, I still thought I could handle it.”

“You told her you’re Daredevil?”

“No. She knew. She _said_ she followed the news, and she recognized me by my ass.” Foggy blinked. “But now I know her connection to Stick, obviously he told her. She was fighting the Yakuza, and she said if I helped her, we could beat them quickly and cleanly, and then she would leave. So I agreed.

“But it wasn’t quick, and it wasn’t clean. Elektra got hurt, she nearly died, and I had to take care of her. She didn’t have anyone else but Stick. And Karen came over, she saw Elektra in my _bed_ , and I couldn’t explain, not without telling her everything else I hadn’t told her. And I tried talking to you at the courthouse, but we were both too angry to listen to each other.

“By the time Stick told me what was really going on, things were already falling apart. But I couldn’t take the time and energy to fix them. Or I chose not to, if you like. I didn’t believe everything Stick told me about the war he was fighting. I still don’t. But I believe the Hand were a threat to the city. I believe they had to be stopped. And I finally realized that it wasn’t possible for me to do that, and maintain my…my civilian life at the same time. I decided saving the city was more important.”

Foggy listened silently, trying to wrap his head around it. He was finally getting answers, no matter how much he might disagree with them.

“I didn’t want to hurt you and Karen. It wasn’t easy for me, or painless.” _Truth._ “But I had to choose. Maybe it was the wrong choice. But I was being pulled in so many directions at once. Stick telling me that emotions are weakness, that someone who does what I do can’t have personal relationships. And Elektra doing the opposite, using our emotional history to get me involved. She couldn’t have planned on getting hurt and having to stay in my home. But I was emotionally compromised from the second she came back into my life, I can see that now.”

“Which is why you didn’t tell me right from the start that she was your mysterious client,” Foggy said shrewdly.

Matt nodded wearily. “I suppose so. At the time, I just thought it would be better not to, because I knew you didn’t like her and wouldn’t approve of me helping her. And like I said, I thought it would be over quickly and I could tell you after she was gone, and we’d have the money to keep the lights on for a while longer. I thought I had everything under control.” He put his head in his hands. “I was so wrong. About everything. Now she’s dead, and for what? I wrecked my own life, and hurt the people I love most, for what?” Tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked them away.

Foggy heard the tears in his voice, as well as the bitterness. “I’m sorry she’s dead,” he said. “You’re right, I didn’t like her, and I would not have approved of you helping her. As far as I can see, all she ever did was hurt you. But I know you cared about her.”

“She didn’t just hurt me, Fog. She accepted me. She knew my secrets, the things I hide from the world, and she _approved_. Can you understand how much that meant to me?”

“She encouraged you to put yourself in danger and nearly get yourself killed. Don’t expect me to be on board with that, Matt.”

“That’s not what I mean. Being Daredevil isn’t just about things I’m choosing to do. It’s about _who I am._ You don’t disapprove just because you’re worried about my safety—you don’t accept the violence in my nature. Putting on the mask didn’t turn me into a violent person, Foggy. It just gave me a…a constructive outlet for what was already there. My dad channeled his violence into boxing, and turned it into a career. I channel mine into cleaning up the city. Going to the gym and taking it out on a punching bag isn’t enough.”

 _Truth._ A truth Foggy didn’t want to face. But truth, nonetheless.

“That’s upsetting to you, I know. That’s exactly why I hid it from you. With Elektra, I didn’t have to hide anything. She accepted it. She accepted _me._ As much pain as she caused me, she also gave me that.”

“And I don’t. Shit.” Foggy was forced to admit that Matt was right. He wasn’t comfortable, at all, with the kind of violence he now knew Matt was capable of. Blaming the mask was too easy—the violence was in the man, not the costume he wore.

“I can live with it, Foggy,” Matt said gently. “I’d be happier if you did accept it, of course. But you’ve given me so much in other ways. I’ve never had a friend like you, ever.” He felt himself choking up again, a little. Tears came so easily on a day like this, with so many upsets. “I can live with it,” he repeated. “The question is, can you?”

“It’s not just that, Matt,” Foggy answered, getting a little choked up himself. “I get what you’re saying. But I feel like you’re downplaying that fact that I worry about your safety. You always say you can handle it, but you have actually come very close to death. More than once. I found out the truth about you by finding you half-dead and bleeding right here in this room. Of _course_ I worry. And don’t tell me you never take unnecessary risks, or do anything reckless, because I _know_ you.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. _Fair point._

“After Frank Castle shot you in the head, I checked every rooftop in the area until I found you. I was scared to death the entire time. And then when I found you, just lying there…” Foggy gulped, tears coming to his eyes at the memory. “I thought, this is it, this is the day I find my best friend in the world lying dead. Do you have any idea what that was like?”

Matt stared at him, remembering his younger self, running desperately into the alley where his father lay dead. “Yes,” he whispered, a sob catching in his throat. He tried to say more, but his voice wouldn’t come. He gripped the boxing robe in Foggy’s lap, and Foggy understood.

He reached out for Matt, Matt leaned toward him, and then they were both crying openly, arms wrapped tightly around each other, sobbing on each other’s shoulders. All the grief they’d never acknowledged at the rupture of their friendship, all the unresolved conflicts they’d both been so carefully avoiding as they tried to find their way back to each other, came pouring out at last.

“Matt,” Foggy whispered. It felt like he was asking for something, but he hardly knew what.

“Foggy,” Matt answered brokenly, and a fresh wave of tears rocked them both. They clung together until the storm finally abated, winding down into deep, sobbing breaths and occasional sniffles.

Remembering what Matt had said earlier about Karen’s heartbeat, Foggy loosened Matt’s fierce grip enough to shift him slightly, pulling his head down to rest with his ear against Foggy’s chest. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position with both of them sitting on the floor, but Matt gave a small sob of a laugh and held on, listening gratefully to Foggy’s heartbeat. His own heartbeat, more familiar to him than anyone else’s.

“Matt.”

“Yeah?”

Foggy took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re stuck like this? In the wrong bodies?”

“I don’t know,” Matt answered, very quietly. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“Me too. But I just realized, you can’t be Daredevil like this.”

“No.”

“Well, I want to say something, so let’s assume we aren’t stuck. If we do go back to normal, you’ll keep doing it. You aren’t going to stop,” Foggy said quietly. It was a statement, not a question.

Matt sighed, a little shakily. “I’ll try to be more careful, Foggy. I promise.”

Well. That was something, at least.

“And the next time something big comes up,” he pursued, “If there’s another threat that’s bad enough that you feel like you need to focus all your attention on daredeviling, will you…don’t just abandon me forever, okay? Talk to me. If you tell me that you have to go save the world now, but you still want to be friends after it’s over, that would be a hell of a lot better than what you did this last time.” _If you’re still alive when it’s over_ hangs unspoken in the air between them.

“You’ll worry.”

Foggy squeezed his shoulders. “Yeah, you’re damn right I will. Just accept it. Or don’t, but don’t keep me in the dark. Abandoning me with no explanation is _not_ better than making me worry. That’s part of who _I_ am, Matt, I worry about the people I care about. And I care about you, a lot.”

“You’re right,” said Matt, surprisingly. He pulled away and sat up straight to ease the crick in his neck. “I’m not very good at this. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“So help me, Murdock, if you even _try_ to say that I’d be better off without you…”

“No! Foggy, no. I’m saying that I’m much worse off, without _you._ It feels selfish, putting it like that. But if you want me to be honest, that’s the truth. I care about you, too. And if you still want me, despite it all, then I’ll try to do better. I may find some other way to fuck things up, I seem to be pretty good at that.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “But I’ll try.”

“Oh.” Foggy smiled. “That’s good, then.” He wiped his eyes on his hand. They itched and burned after the tears, and he grimaced. “Ow, my eyes hurt.”

“Really? Mine don't feel so bad,” said Matt, and Foggy could hear the smile in his voice again.

“Sure, rub it in. Dick.” They both laughed a little.

“You must have covered some of this same ground with Karen,” said Foggy. “You’re not going to abandon _her,_ the next time things get tough, or keep her in the dark about what you’re doing, are you?”

“No. I’m through hiding things from her. It’s a relief not to, honestly. I should have told her the truth much sooner.”

“I could’ve told you that. Oh wait, I _did_ tell you that.”

“You were right,” Matt admitted.

“And does she accept you? The violent part of you?”

“Pretty well, yes. Once she’d forgiven me for…everything.” _She understands,_ he thought. _Karen has violence in her, too._ But that wasn’t his secret to tell. “She still worries about me. But she accepts me for who I am. I can be myself with her, completely. It still amazes me sometimes, to be honest.”

There was no mistaking the happiness in his voice, and Foggy smiled at him. “Good for you, man. I’m glad. She’s waiting outside in the hall, go let her in. I heard the door open and then close again, while we were crying, I think she didn’t want to interrupt.”

Matt got to his feet, with a startled groan at the stiffness of his joints. Foggy laughed.

“Welcome to my world, buddy. Now you know why I don’t like to sit on the floor.” He stood up, much more lightly than Matt had. “Hey, this is nice,” he said, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “So this is what it feels like to be in shape, huh? Wow.”

“Sure, rub it in. Dick.” 

Foggy grinned, disappearing into the bathroom, and a moment later Matt heard him blowing his nose. Matt hurried to the apartment door and opened it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six months after season 2, I finally felt ready to address the vexing question, What the hell was Matt thinking?? I hope it wasn't too much of a plot re-hash, but Foggy doesn't know some of this stuff yet even if we do.
> 
> Gosh, I love a good cathartic reconciliation.


	5. Asking for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I need to say spoilers for Age of Ultron, at this point? I don't think there will be any plot spoilers, but the presence of certain characters counts as a spoiler of sorts.

Karen walked down the hall to Matt’s door, lunches in hand, eager to tell Matt and Foggy about her idea. It was time they tried to figure out what had caused their swap, and how they could reverse it.

But when she opened the apartment door, she stopped on the threshold. She heard sobbing, and when she looked down the entryway she could see the two of them, sitting in the middle of the living room floor with their arms around each other, both crying. What could have happened while she was gone?

Her first impulse was to run to them and try to help. But her second impulse, which she obeyed, was to quietly back out the door, back into the hallway. Both of them in tears looked bad. But Matt hadn’t called her. So maybe, maybe it meant that they were finally working out their differences. If so, she didn’t want to intrude.

She sat down on the floor beside the door and settled herself to wait. How long should she give them, before she looked in again to see if they were all right? She didn’t need to decide, because the door opened just a few minutes later. Looking up, she saw Matt in the doorway, tearstained but calm. He smiled at her as she scrambled to her feet.

“Foggy said you were out here. Come on in.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt, I saw you…” she trailed off as she went inside and closed the door behind her.

Matt reached for her almost before she had time to set down her bag, and hugged her tightly. She rubbed his back, and he heaved a great, shuddering sigh against her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered. “We talked, about all the stuff we haven’t been talking about. It was painful, but it was good to finally get it all out. I think, I hope, things will be better now.”

“Oh, good!” She pulled away enough to look into his face, beaming. “I hoped it was something like that when I saw you.”

“We can’t just erase it all like it never happened,” he warned her.

“I know. But I can still be happy about this, don’t tell me you’re not.”

He broke into a wide smile. “Yeah, of course I am.”

They walked together to the living room. Foggy had come out of the bathroom, and Matt went in to blow his nose.

Karen turned to Foggy. “Matt says you talked it out. How are you doing? Can I hug you, or would you rather not risk it?”

“Sure, maybe just a quick one,” he answered. She let him take the lead, and he leaned in for a brief arms-around-the-shoulders squeeze, the rest of them not touching.

“All right?” she asked.

“All right,” he smiled, relieved. “Thank god, I can hug you without embarrassing us both. That was nice, but not _too_ nice. And yeah, we talked. We’ve both been trying to avoid rocking the boat, but I guess it was time we did. I think we both understand things better now, and have a clearer idea what we want.”

“Good.” She smiled at him and squeezed his hands.

Matt came back out and picked up the boxing robe and the photo off the floor. He glanced at Karen, and she went over to look.

“This is what started us off,” he told her. “I kept these, after my dad died, but I’d never seen the robe. He got it after I went blind. So I got them out to look at them, and showed Foggy, and somehow talking about Dad led to talking about everything else.”

The face of the man in the grainy old photo was hard to make out, but he looked nice. Not much older than they were now. She looked down at the open trunk, then looked at the robe. “Battlin’ Jack Murdock,” she read. “You keep these with your Daredevil stuff?”

“It seems appropriate, somehow.” He folded the robe carefully and returned both items to the trunk. “He always wanted me to use my head, not my fists, and it’s important for me to remember that. I sometimes wonder what he’d think, if he knew what I do.”

 _You help people,_ Karen thought. _He should be proud._ But she knew it wasn’t that simple. He was really wondering what Jack Murdock would think of the violence his son was capable of, and there wasn’t really any answer to that.

“So,” she said as they sat down to lunch. “I know you guys have had a lot on your minds today. But do you have any ideas about how all this happened?” She waved her hands at the two of them.

“It’s occurred to both of us to wonder if we’re going to be stuck like this,” Matt answered, “and frankly, we’re both trying not to think about it. But as to how it happened…” he shook his head.

“It’s impossible,” said Foggy. “How do we figure out the cause of something that has no known cause? It could be anything, one answer’s as good as another.”

“I wonder,” said Karen. “We were all three together last night. But whatever this is didn’t affect me.”

“You think something last night caused it?”

“It’s a theory,” she shrugged. “Last night you were both yourselves, this morning you weren’t. So what happened in between? To both of you, but not me? What did you do after you dropped me off?”

“Nothing unusual,” Foggy answered. “Just walked and talked. Nothing strange happened. After I got home I went right to bed.”

“Me, too,” said Matt.

“Well, something must have caused it,” she persisted. “And I can’t help thinking that the two of you being together must be a part of it. If it were a completely random event, how likely is it that you two would have swapped with each other, out of all the people in this city?”

“Makes sense,” said Matt. “But it doesn’t get us much farther. I can’t remember anything at all out of the ordinary happening, can you?”

Foggy shook his head.

They ate in thoughtful silence for a few minutes.

“I had an idea while I was out,” said Karen. “Somewhere we could maybe go for help.” She looked at each of them, and took a deep breath. “It occurred to me that there are some people, right here in the city, who are used to dealing with pretty weird stuff. Things like portals opening in the sky. Like alien space monsters invading. Like whatever the hell really happened in Sokovia last year.”

Matt stared at her. Foggy stared past her shoulder.

“What are you suggesting?” Matt asked cautiously.

“We should ask them for help,” she answered firmly.

“Ask them for help.” Foggy repeated. “Just walk up to the tower and knock on the door? We can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Lots of people must want their help,” said Matt, “And I doubt they have open office hours. Karen, if they were willing to talk to everyone who came knocking, they’d never do anything else. Why should we be any different?”

“I know, I know. But what harm does it do to try?”

“We don’t know if they’d even be able to help us. This isn’t the sort of thing they usually take on.”

“No. But we need help, guys. And they’re the only ones I can think of who have experience with impossible things. I mean, they themselves are pretty out there. Magic flying hammers? Giant green…whatever that guy is? We have no idea what other weird stuff they might know about, I’m sure what gets on the news isn’t the half of it. They’ll believe us, at the very least. Don’t you think?”

Foggy looked thoughtful. “Maybe they would. But why should they even talk to us at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t. Maybe they aren’t even there right now. But what have we got to lose?”

Foggy felt uncomfortable. He couldn’t help thinking about what his colleagues at HC & B would think of him if they knew he’d rolled up to Avengers tower and asked to see Captain America, like a goddamn tourist. But on the other hand, what was he supposed to do come Monday morning, if he was still stuck in Matt’s body? What was Matt supposed to do? Neither one of them could go back to work like this.

Matt also felt uncomfortable. Did they really want to start telling their business to strangers? Faced with something as unbelievable as this, his natural impulse was to hide it, not to tell it to anyone outside the three of them. But Karen had a point, maybe it wouldn’t sound so unbelievable to the Avengers. And this was something they _couldn’t_ hide, not for long anyway.

Karen was watching both of them, seeing their discomfort on their faces. “You don’t have to come with me,” she offered. “I can go by myself and ask, I don’t mind. Maybe it would be better for both of you to stay here anyway, this must be an easier environment for you to handle than outside. If anything comes of it, I can call you and you can meet me there…or no, I’ll come back for you. How about that? I mean, you’re the ones affected, so it’s up to you. If you really don’t want to bring anyone else into it, I won’t. But it’s the only thing I can think of to try.”

Matt reached for her hand. “You’re right, we need help. And if we have to tell someone, then I can’t think of anyone better. If they’ll talk to us, that is. What do you think, Foggy?”

Foggy nodded, feeling ashamed of his hesitation. “Agreed. But we’ll come with you, Karen. We won't ask you to do something we wouldn’t do ourselves. Right?” he asked Matt.

“Right. We’ll go together.” He smiled. “Even if it doesn’t work, Karen, thank you for trying.”

“At least you have an idea,” Foggy added, “which is more than we’ve managed to do.”

“Well, you have been a little distracted,” she answered. “And you’re welcome. I’m glad to help. If this does help.” She felt suddenly anxious. “God, I hope it helps.” This was all she could think of, what were they supposed to do if it failed?

Matt nudged Foggy. “You can’t go outside like that. Go and put some clothes on, you exhibitionist.”

Foggy grinned as he stood up. “At least now I’ve got something to exhibit. If I’d had this body in college, I never would have put a shirt on.” He picked up the cane and headed for the bedroom, but hesitated in the doorway.

“The dresser's to your right, just inside the door,” Matt reminded him.

“Right. Got it.” He found the dresser and rummaged inside, choosing clothes based on how soft they were, listening to Matt and Karen clear away the lunch things and put Matt’s trunk back in the closet. He found Matt’s dark glasses on top of the dresser and put them on.

They left the apartment in silence and went downstairs, all of them feeling a little anxious now about Karen’s plan, Foggy feeling even more anxious about stepping outside for the first time.

He expected it to be a shock, and it was. The sounds of traffic and pedestrians were louder than they had been inside, and the smells of garbage, piss, and exhaust intensified. But he hadn’t anticipated the _feel_ of the air against his skin. Inside there had been relatively little to stir the air, and he had barely noticed it in the press of stronger sensations from his ears and nose. But out here the air was a constantly-changing tapestry of temperature, air pressure, flowing motion. He tucked the cane under his arm and held out his hands, feeling the texture surrounding him. It was less overwhelming than the sounds and smells, but still impossible to ignore, his skin registering every passing current. A breeze ruffled his hair and he drew in a sharp breath, feeling the movement all over his scalp.

“Holy shit, Matt,” he said softly.

Matt gripped his arm. “You all right?” he asked gently.

“I had no idea it was like this,” he answered. “I just…Wow.” He shook his head. “Let’s take a cab, okay? I’ll pay. You’ve got my wallet, right?”

Karen hailed a cab and they piled into the back, Foggy holding both of their hands tightly.

* * * *

They stood together nervously outside the tower, and Karen was forced to acknowledge the essential weakness of her plan: the tower wasn’t open to the public. How were they supposed to get inside, or get the attention of anyone who was inside?

There was a small crowd of people further down the block, outside the main doors—protesters? fans? curious bystanders, hoping to catch sight of someone famous? Karen didn’t intend to get close enough to find out.

“There’s too many people by the doors,” she said for Foggy’s benefit, although she knew he could probably hear them. “We need to get the attention of someone inside, without drawing the attention of anyone out here.” She tried not to sound as discouraged as she felt.

Foggy lay his hand flat against the glassy side of the building, his expression intent. “It…hums,” he said curiously.

“It’s off the grid,” said Matt. He and Karen put their hands on the wall, but felt nothing. “They generate their own power, there must be a lot of electrical equipment inside.”

Karen was thinking hard. “This building must have the best security Tony Stark could think up,” she pondered. “I assume there are cameras covering the entire perimeter, even if we can’t see them. If I’m right, someone in there can see us. Maybe they can hear us, too.”

“That seems reasonable,” Matt agreed.

“Well then.” Karen took a deep breath and looked up, directing her gaze to a point on the wall a few feet above their heads. She looked around to make sure no one else was within earshot, then looked up again and spoke, clearly and firmly.

“Hello,” she said. “We need help. Please, we have a problem that…well, it seems impossible. No one else would probably even believe us. And we didn’t know where else to go. We don’t know how to fix it. Will someone come talk to us, and we’ll explain? We’re not here to do any harm, or to bother you for no reason. Please, we need help.”

She hadn’t expected any immediate response, but she couldn’t help looking up for a few moments longer before she turned away. “I guess now we wait,” she said. “Don’t look, we don’t want to look suspicious.” They turned toward each other, not looking at the building, trying their best to look casual and unobtrusive.

“How long do we wait?” asked Foggy.

“We should give it a while,” said Matt. “If someone did hear Karen, it may take some time for them to decide if they want to talk to us.”

Several minutes passed, feeling much longer than they actually were.

“If nothing happens soon, I’ll try again,” said Karen determinedly. “Now that we’re here, I’m not giving up—“

“Miss Page?” said an unfamiliar male voice behind her.

She whipped around, and gasped. A face was protruding from the wall. It looked like a man’s face, but the skin was magenta and a yellow gemstone gleamed in the forehead.

“How do you know my name?” she asked breathlessly.

“All in good time,” it—he? answered. The voice sounded human enough, complete with an English accent that seemed bizarrely out of place in such an inhuman-looking, disembodied face. “Quickly now, before I am noticed. There is a concealed door twenty meters to your right. I shall meet you there.” The face withdrew back into the wall.

Karen looked at Matt. “You saw that too, right?”

He nodded, wide-eyed, and described the face to Foggy. “I guess we’d better go find that door,” he added.

They turned and walked along the wall. After they’d gone about the right distance, the face briefly appeared again, in a section of wall that looked no different from the rest. The hidden door opened, and they quickly slipped inside.

The magenta man was waiting. “There are emergency exits at several points around the perimeter,” he explained. “Mister Stark considered it advisable, from a security standpoint, that they not be recognizable as doors from the outside.”

The ground floor of the tower appeared to be a vast lobby. They were in a wide open space, with what looked like small shops in a few spots along the walls, and a number of anonymous-looking blank doors in other spots. There was a row of elevators off to one side.

The man turned to Karen. “You are correct about this building’s security. It is quite advanced. I know your name because the glass you pressed your hand against read your fingerprints, and we consulted law enforcement records for a match. Thus, I also know that you were arrested in 2014, and released with no charges filed.”

“Oh.” Karen found herself feeling defensive, but the man seemed undisturbed by her arrest. “I guess it makes sense that you’d want to do a background check before letting someone in,” she said, wondering uneasily how far back that check extended, and how wide a range of sources it included.

“You won’t have gotten anything from our prints,” said Matt, indicating himself and Foggy. “I’m Matthew Murdock.”

“Franklin Nelson,” said Foggy.

The man nodded acknowledgement. “Thank you. I am called Vision.” He shook hands with each of them gravely.

Foggy frowned, trying to make sense of the information his senses were giving him. “You aren’t human,” he said with certainty.

“I am not,” Vision agreed. “I am…unique. I believe you would call me an artificial intelligence. But I am sentient, not merely programmed. And I have allied myself with those who live in this tower, and protect this world. If you seek the Avengers, you have found them.” He smiled. “Now tell me, what is the nature of your problem? What assistance do you require?”

Foggy took deep breath, gripping Matt’s arm. “The problem is that we two have somehow exchanged bodies. I’m Foggy Nelson, but this is Matt Murdock’s body.”

“And I’m Matt Murdock,” said Matt, “But this is Foggy’s body.”

Vision looked at them with interest. “Indeed?” he said curiously. “I take it this is not a typical human ability? I can find no reliable references to such an event outside the realm of fiction.”

“Not typical at all,” said Karen. “Impossible, as I said. Except that…well, it's happened somehow, and here we are.”

“And we don’t know what caused it,” Matt added, “Or how to switch ourselves back.”

“A problem, I agree.” Vision looked at each of them in turn. “And you think that we can help you?”

“We hope that you can,” said Karen firmly. “The Avengers have dealt with other problems that might seem impossible to the rest of us. Some of you, yourselves, have abilities that seem impossible. So I thought it would be worth asking, at least. One of you might know something that would help.”

“Perhaps so,” he answered. “I believe a consultation with one of my colleagues is in order.” He raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Wanda,” he called, “will you join us in the lobby?”

After a moment’s pause, a woman’s voice replied. “On my way.”

Vision addressed the three of them once more. “Most of my colleagues, while highly trained, do not, I think, possess any abilities that you would consider impossible. Wanda, however, is…I believe the preferred term is _enhanced._ Some of her abilities are quite extraordinary, and may be useful in this instance.”

“Thank you,” said Karen. “We didn’t know if anyone would even talk to us. But we didn’t know where else to turn.”

“We know it’s not exactly saving the world…” said Matt self-deprecatingly.

But Vision just smiled. “Saving the world is of value precisely so that its inhabitants may live their lives in peace. If we can devise a way to assist you, we will.”

“Thank you,” said Foggy.

An elevator opened with a discreet chime, and a young, dark-haired woman stepped out. She looked into their faces as she approached, her gaze unnervingly direct.

“Karen Page. Matthew Murdock. Franklin Nelson. I am Wanda Maximoff.” She spoke with an Eastern European accent. “I have heard what you told Vision. You understand, I hope, that we take certain precautions before bringing strangers into our home?”

“Of course,” said Matt.

“What sort of precautions?” asked Karen.

“Fingerprinting you, for one. A useful tool, but only partially effective. Not all of you have records, and you might not all have touched the glass. And even with a record, police data is never the whole story.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Karen muttered.

Wanda smiled. “To be frank, we need to know if you’re telling the truth, and if you intend us any harm. I can read minds.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for her statement to register. Then all three of them startled, instinctively leaning a little away from her.

“Please don’t be alarmed,” said Wanda. “I don’t need to look very deeply. Your secrets are safe, as long as they pose no threat.”

Karen took a deep breath, and turned to the others. “What do you think?” she asked. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Then Foggy shrugged. “Either we trust them or we don’t,” he said.

“They’re our only hope,” Matt added, his jaw set. He didn’t at all like the idea of someone reading his mind, but what choice did they have?

Karen nodded. She didn’t like it either, but they were both right. And coming here had been her idea, she wasn’t going to back out if they weren’t. “All right,” she agreed, turning back to Wanda. “What should we do?”

“Tell me again why you are here.” They repeated their story while she looked at each of them in turn, a brief, penetrating stare. Then she turned to Vision. “They are not lying, and they mean us no harm. I will take them up.”

“Excellent,” Vision answered. “I will see you again shortly,” he told them, and floated up into the air, disappearing through the ceiling. Karen and Matt stared after him. Foggy tipped his head as if he were listening.

Wanda walked back to the elevators, and after a moment’s hesitation— _either we trust them or we don’t_ —they followed.

“It’s too bad Thor isn’t here,” Wanda remarked as the elevator rose swiftly upward. “He comes from another realm altogether, his knowledge might have been useful. But still, as you say, we are accustomed to dealing with unusual events. We will do what we can without him.”

“Thank you,” said Foggy. “We really appreciate this.” Matt and Karen murmured in agreement.

She smiled at them as their ascent slowed to a stop. “Come and meet the others,” she said, and led the way out of the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how, exactly, Vision would be perceived by enhanced senses. I'm not sure how his insides work. But I do think he would read differently from a human.


	6. Making a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some passing references to the events of the MCU in this chapter, if that concerns anyone. Specifically, Iron Man 2, Captain America: the Winter Soldier, and The Avengers. There's also a shout-out to season one of Agents of Shield, but nothing specific.

They stepped out of the elevator into a large, open living space. Several sofas and a few tables and chairs were scattered around the floor. A kitchen ran along one wall. The opposite wall was floor-to-ceiling windows. Vision had arrived before them, and there were four men and one woman there in addition. They all turned to look as Wanda led the three of them into the room.

Karen looked around, feeling self-conscious. The only one she recognized on sight was Tony Stark—his face was a fixture of the American news media. But that other man…yes, now that she looked at him again, she recognized Steve Rogers from high school history lessons about Captain America. None of the others looked familiar. The other Avengers she might have recognized didn’t seem to be here. No big green guy, and Wanda had said that Thor (he was the one with the hammer, wasn’t he?) was away too. The rest of the team kept a lower profile.

Tony strode over to meet them. “Body-swapping lawyers!” he exclaimed with a grin. “And just when we were starting to get bored. Welcome to the tower, and congratulations on getting our attention.”

Matt and Foggy both turned toward Karen, and Tony’s attention focused on her. “Your idea?” he asked.

“That’s right,” she answered, noticing with some surprise that they were the same height, and she could look him straight in the eye. His outsized personality somehow managed to create the impression that he was taller than he actually was.

“Karen Page,” he said consideringly. She couldn’t guess from the look he gave her how much he knew about her, or what he thought of her. He turned to the others. “And the former firm of Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law.”

“And you are?” asked Matt, meeting his gaze and raising his eyebrows slightly.

Tony looked startled. Several of the others in the room smirked, and the man in the kitchen laughed out loud. When was the last time someone had failed to recognize Tony Stark?

“I’ve been blind,” Matt continued smoothly, “from the time I was nine years old until just this morning. So.” He looked around the room. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize any of you.”

“And I’ve been blind ever since this morning,” Foggy added. “Although I feel like I should know that voice.”

Tony looked back at Karen. “You know who I am, though, don’t you?”

She grinned. “Yes, of course I do.” She had a pretty good idea that Matt and Foggy knew it, too. After all, his voice was in the news almost as often as his face. “Guys, this is Tony Stark.”

One of the other men approached them. “I’m Sam Wilson,” he said. “So you two have swapped bodies, and one of you is blind? That’s rough, man. Are you doing all right?”

“It sucks,” said Foggy, with feeling. “But Matt’s been helping me. I’d be a lot worse off without him. And it’s been no picnic for him either, suddenly getting back his sight after twenty years. We called Karen so we’d have someone around who wasn’t a complete mess.”

“Oh, I’m all right,” said Matt. 

Karen raised her eyes to the ceiling. “He always says that,” she told Sam with a grimace. 

“Yeah, I know the type,” he answered, glancing toward Steve.

The others introduced themselves. Steve came over and shook their hands; James Rhodes nodded to them from his position leaning on the kitchen island; Natasha Romanov tossed them her name without looking at them or moving from her position on one of the sofas.

“Come and sit down,” said Wanda, and they settled themselves on another sofa.

“Nelson and Murdock,” said Tony, leaning on the back of Natasha’s sofa. “You’ve been in the news a time or two. You defended Frank Castle a few months back. Or at least, one of you did.”

Matt flushed. “I was having some…personal issues,” he said shortly. “I let them interfere with my work.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Tony?” Natasha murmured.

“In my defense…” Tony began, but then changed his mind. “Nope, never mind. Not gonna dignify that with a response. Especially not to the woman who infiltrated my company under false pretenses to _spy_ on me. So, you two broke up the band?”

“We did,” said Matt. “I’m still in business on my own, and Foggy works now at Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz.”

“Watch your back,” Tony advised. “Jeri Hogarth is a barracuda.”

“Oh, did she turn you down?” Natasha asked sweetly.

Tony put a hand dramatically on his chest, looking wounded. “Contrary to popular belief, I do _not_ hit on every woman I meet. Didn’t, even before I settled down into happy monogamy. Hogarth is a damn sharp lawyer, but I wouldn’t trust her, that’s all I’m saying.”

Foggy felt uncomfortable. Tony had just put into words his own nebulous feelings about the woman who had hired him. He couldn’t put his finger on anything definite about her, but all his instincts about people told him Tony was right.

He firmly re-directed the conversation. “Matt and I are still friends, though. Or at least, we’re friends again.” Matt bumped his leg against Foggy’s, smiling. “I…may have stopped talking to him for a while. But we’re better now.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Tony said breezily. “I’m still friends with Rhodey here, and he stole my tech and handed it over to the military, after I’d _just told_ them they couldn’t have it.”

James—Rhodey—looked unperturbed. “Seemed like the best thing to do at the time, given your increasingly erratic and reckless behavior.”

“You hear that?” Foggy said to Matt. “Erratic and reckless behavior.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“And yet, they’re still friends,” Matt answered serenely.

“I won’t say it didn’t get a little dicey there for a while,” said Rhodey. “But we pulled through.”

“There’s at least two of us here who have had our friends try to kill us,” Natasha commented. “Although to be fair, there was brainwashing involved. We don’t hold it against them.”

“Friendships can survive a lot,” said Steve. He turned and stared out the window, looking out over the vast expanse of the city. “You can’t give up on the people who matter to you.”

Natasha and Sam looked at him, then looked at each other, but said nothing.

“So, Miss Page,” said Tony, “How do you come into this Freaky Friday scenario? I assume you’re not part of the body-swap, or someone would have said. You’re not, are you? If this swap crosses gender lines as well as eyesight lines, I _definitely_ want to hear about it.”

“It does not,” said Karen as soon as she could get a word in. “I’m dating Matt, and friends with Foggy, and Matt called me this morning and told me about it.”

“And you believed him?”

“He convinced me he was really Matt. He knows things about me that Foggy wouldn’t.” She held Tony’s gaze and gave him her best demure smile. 

He smiled back at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like her,” he announced to the room. “Whatever it was she got arrested for.”

“I was framed,” Karen told him. “But then these two lovely lawyers showed up and offered to represent me, and got me released from custody.”

“And you all lived happily ever after?”

“Close enough.” She wrinkled her nose at Matt.

“Can you help us?” asked Matt, of the room in general. “You know what our problem is. Do any of you know of anything that could cause this, or any way to switch us back?”

There was a thoughtful silence.

“When Clint was brainwashed,” Natasha offered, “An artifact was used to control his mind.”

“The same stone gave me my powers,” Wanda added. “That’s not the same as what’s happened to you, though.”

“But other artifacts have been found, with other powers,” said Steve. “Agent Hill told me once that SHIELD had a special team a couple of years ago. They specialized in tracking down weird objects, and locking them away where they couldn’t do any harm. But we can’t be sure they’re still locked up, since we exposed HYDRA. And there could be others out there that were never found.”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Tony. “Friday, search all available SHIELD files for any references to two peoples’ consciousness exchanging bodies, associated with artifacts or otherwise.”

“Yes, boss,” answered a disembodied female voice.

“Have either of you seen or handled any unusual object?” asked Wanda.

Matt and Foggy shook their heads. “We’ve been over this,” said Foggy. “Karen thought something must have happened last night, since we woke up like this today. But there was nothing at all out of the ordinary.”

“We were together,” said Matt. “The three of us went out for drinks. But nothing unusual happened.”

“Nothing that you can remember, anyway.” said Wanda thoughtfully.

“Search negative, no results,” Friday reported.

Matt frowned. “You think we’ve forgotten something?”

“I think perhaps you were made to forget. When I looked into your minds earlier, I noticed a small thing. A blind spot, if you like. I didn’t pay it much attention, because I had promised to take only a quick look to make sure you were telling the truth. But the same blind spot was there, in all three of you.”

“And that’s not normal?” Karen asked.

“People’s minds do contain such blind spots, yes. But for all of you to have the _same_ blind spot—that seems unlikely. If it is a blocked memory, it would mean that all three of you have forgotten the same thing.”

“And that wouldn’t happen naturally,” said Karen excitedly. “Even if we each remember last night a little differently, normally we’d each forget different things, right?”

“That’s why eyewitness testimony can be so unreliable,” said Foggy, nodding.

“Is it possible to to find out what we’ve forgotten?” asked Matt. “Or is it gone forever?”

“We can try, certainly,” Wanda answered. “To destroy a memory entirely is more difficult than simply blocking access to it, so we may hope it is only blocked. If so, then I can un-block it. But I will need to look into your minds again, more deeply this time.”

Foggy heard Matt’s heartbeat accelerate…and Karen’s. 

Matt and Karen looked at each other, thinking about the secrets they both kept.

Karen turned back to Wanda. “Can the three of us talk privately for a minute?”

“Of course.” She pointed out a door in one corner, which turned out to be the entrance to a large bathroom.

Karen closed the door behind them and immediately turned to Matt. “Matt, you don’t have to. I’ll let her read my mind, that should be enough if we’ve all forgotten the same thing.”

“But Karen…” He paused. He knew he couldn’t mention Karen’s secret in front of Foggy. “You know my secrets,” he said instead. “So does Foggy. She’ll know about me, if she reads any of us deeply.” He steeled himself, and added, “But we have to let her.” He couldn’t leave Foggy blind, couldn’t leave both of them stuck like this, just to protect himself. “This is the only chance we have, we’ve got to take it. I’ll…I’ll ask her not to tell anyone else.”

Foggy could hear the stress and unhappiness in his voice. Matt was agreeing to give up his secrets to a stranger, and he was doing it at least partly for Foggy’s sake. He knew it was for Matt’s own sake as well, but he still couldn’t help feeling that he would be gaining more, and Matt losing more, if this actually worked. Which they didn’t even know if it would, and Matt was taking the chance anyway.

“Thanks, buddy,” Foggy said quietly, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “I wish there was some other way.” 

Matt said nothing, but he turned and leaned his head against Foggy’s for a moment. Then he reached out and took Karen’s hand. “Thanks for offering to spare me,” he told her. “I appreciate it, even if it wouldn’t have actually made a difference.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” she said, then took a deep breath. “All right, guys. Are we ready?”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” said Foggy. “I’m ready when you are, Matt.”

“Right.” Matt sighed, and squared his shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

They went back into the common area and approached Wanda. “Okay,” Matt said. “We’re willing to have you read our minds, to find out what we’ve forgotten. But…” he paused, looking for a tactful way to phrase their concerns.

But Karen didn’t hesitate. “You may find out some things about us,” she said. “Things we don’t want you to know. That we wouldn’t want _anyone_ to know.”

Wanda nodded. “I understand. Don’t be afraid. I know everyone’s secrets.” Her expression suddenly looked much too old for her years. “But I don’t tell them. I won’t tell yours, either. You have my word.”

Matt and Karen both glanced at Foggy, who was listening intently. 

_Truth._ He smiled, squeezing Matt’s arm, and they all relaxed slightly. “Thank you,” said Foggy. “So, what do we do?”

“Come with me.” Wanda led them across the room to a set of chairs away from the others.

“We all have the same blind spot, you said,” said Karen, “but I’m not affected by whatever happened to them. Does that make a difference?”

“Only one way to find out,” Wanda answered with a smile.

Karen nodded. “I’ll go first, then. Go ahead.”

Matt looked ready to protest for a moment, but he sat back without saying anything, a frown on his face.

Wanda leaned forward and looked into Karen’s eyes.

And Karen remembered.

_Karen stood in the doorway of Josie’s, buttoning her coat against a sudden chilly gust of wind. Matt and Foggy stood waiting for her on the sidewalk, just outside the door. They’d all had just enough to drink to be feeling happy and relaxed. It felt almost like the way things used to be._

_She looked up just in time to see an object fly past in front of her, at eye level. Matt and Foggy both reared back, startled, to avoid being hit. As she turned toward them in alarm, they each flung out an arm for balance, and their hands struck the wall together, fingers touching the same spot at the same instant, just as Karen stepped forward and grabbed Matt’s other arm._

_A young man ran past them, laughing and calling to his friend farther up the block, who threw back to him the basketball that had almost hit Matt and Foggy, oblivious to the near-accident._

_“Idiots,” Foggy muttered, without rancor._

_“Are you guys all right?” Karen asked._

_“Fine. We have reflexes like a springing…” He paused. “Matt, what’s a springing animal? I got nothing.”_

_Matt thought for a moment. “I got nothing, either,” he admitted._

_“You city boys,” said Karen, shaking her head at them. “I know neither one of you has ever encountered an animal larger than a raccoon, but that’s no excuse. You must have read books with animals in them.”_

_“Okay, Vermont girl,” said Matt, smiling fondly as they crossed the street. “You tell us a springing animal, then.”_

_“Panthers,” she suggested, after a moment’s thought. “They jump down on their prey out of trees. I think.”_

_“Perfect,” said Foggy. “We have reflexes like springing panthers!” he proclaimed, and they all laughed as they headed toward Karen’s apartment together._

“Oh,” said Karen, staring at Wanda with wide eyes. “You saw it? What I remembered?”

“Yes.” She looked serious, and Karen couldn’t help wondering just what else Wanda had seen in her mind. But her expression held no judgement. If Wanda now knew all her secrets, Karen would just have to trust her discretion.

“It worked?” Foggy asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I know what happened. It was easy, she just looked at me and I remembered.”

“You next,” Wanda said to Foggy. “To see the event from all of your perspectives will be useful, I think.”

“All right, go ahead,” said Foggy.

A minute later he took in a sharp breath, and said “Oh,” just as Karen had, sounding surprised.

Wanda smiled, and turned to Matt. “And you, of course, did not _see_ what happened at all. Your experience will be quite interesting, I think. May I?” She gave no sign of just how much information she had gleaned from Karen and Foggy. How many of Matt’s secrets she already knew.

Matt set his jaw and nodded. “Go ahead.”

A minute later he blinked at her, sighing out a deep breath. Wanda was looking at him with an unreadable expression. She glanced aside at Foggy, then back at Matt, and gave him a small smile. “We must get the two of you back where you belong,” she said softly.

“If we can,” said Matt. “We both touched the same spot on the wall. Is that all it took to cause this? It seems so…ordinary.”

“We need to take a close look at that wall,” Wanda replied. “I think it is not ordinary, at all. It may also be the solution to your problem.”

“Do it again, you mean? Touch the wall together, and we switch back?”

“Yes. Possibly. But we will do nothing without due thought. We don’t _know_ what will happen, and given what happened the first time, it’s not something to be attempted lightly. I suggest we see what the others think, and pool our knowledge.”

They went back and rejoined the others.

“Any luck?” asked Steve.

“It is an artifact,” Wanda reported. “The two of them touched the same spot in a wall, at the same instant, their hands touching. Karen touched one of them at the same moment, but didn’t touch the wall.”

“So she caught the memory block, but not the primary effect. That’s good to know.” He looked around at the other Avengers. “An object with that kind of power can’t be left lying around in the open. We need to bring it in.”

“How are we going to bring in a wall?” Rhodey asked skeptically.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Wanda. “It isn’t the entire wall. The spot where they touched…Karen was too far away to see it clearly, and Foggy was looking the other way. But Matt’s tactile memory is quite clear. There was a difference in texture, something embedded in the wall, but not of the same material. That is our artifact.”

Matt thought back, remembering the feel of Foggy’s fingers warm against his, and a cool smoothness in the rough brick of the wall. He had barely noticed it at the time, in his startlement at nearly being hit in the head. But Wanda was right, his memory of it was clear.

“The other question,” Wanda continued, “is how to reverse the effect, and change these men back. I had thought perhaps touching the artifact again…but we don’t know for certain if the effect would be the same a second time. It might do nothing. It might do something completely different. Do any of you have more experience with things like this? What do you think?”

“Well, we’ve seen some of what the tesseract can do,” said Natasha. “And the stone in Loki’s scepter.” She glanced at Vision, who was listening quietly from a chair near Wanda.

“This must be something far less powerful than those,” said Wanda. “Any human who touched them with their bare hands was destroyed.” She also glanced at Vision. “Have you any ideas?” she asked him.

“I think that such artifacts must obey their nature,” he answered. “This stone,” he touched his forehead, “has clearly produced different effects at different times. But I believe that simply means the stone’s nature is complex, and we do not fully understand it. A simple, less powerful artifact may be more consistent.”

“We can’t really test it out, though, can we?” said Sam. “At the end of the day, the only way to find out is to try it, and see what happens. It’s a risk.”

“So we control as many variables as we can,” said Tony. “If you want to replicate the results, you recreate the original experiment. So what are our variables? You both touched this thing at the same time. What else?”

“The effect was delayed,” Matt offered. “The exchange happened while we were sleeping. Would it matter how soon we went to sleep, after touching it?” He touched Foggy’s arm. “I was asleep probably an hour or so later. You?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“And we’d been drinking,” Karen added. “Maybe that made them more susceptible.”

“And we were startled right before we touched it,” said Foggy.

Wanda nodded. “All of those things we can replicate easily. I suggest waiting until tonight, having a few drinks together, and then touching the artifact an hour before you go to bed. The startle can be arranged.”

“What if we can’t sleep?” asked Foggy. “I’m definitely going to be more anxious than I was last night.”

“I can help with that, if necessary,” Wanda assured him.

“So you want us to stay here tonight?” Matt asked.

Wanda looked around the room. “Any objections?”

“Better to have them here,” said Natasha, “In case something unexpected happens.” The other Avengers nodded.

Foggy turned to Matt. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think we have to try it,” said Matt. “I think there’s a good chance it _will_ change us back, and if it doesn’t...I think this is about the safest place we could be, whatever happens. And we really don't have any other options.”

“Karen?”

“I agree with Matt. I’m in, if you are.”

Foggy took a deep breath. “All right, then,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which Avengers are present in the tower is purely a matter of timing. I needed Wanda, so it has to be after Age of Ultron, but before Civil War. Which fits nicely with Daredevil's timeline, since this is a few months after season 2. I know Tony isn't officially an Avenger at this point, but you can't tell me he doesn't still come over and hang out with them sometimes, all his friends are there. I couldn't think of any way to include Pepper that didn't feel gratuitous, so sadly she got left out.
> 
> I couldn't resist having the Avengers dispense a little friendship advice, because their personal lives really are just as big a mess as Matt and Foggy's.
> 
> I know the artifact stuff is pretty hand-wavy, but it's a body-swap. It's not like there's any explanation that would be perfectly sensible and realistic.


	7. Experimental conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to narrow the focus back to the main characters, and give them some quiet time together.

“I want that artifact off the street as soon as possible,” said Steve.

“I’ll take care of it,” said Wanda.

“Just you?” Steve frowned.

She turned to Karen, Matt and Foggy. “Will you come? It may not be easy to spot, you can help me.”

“Of course,” said Karen. “We’ll help however we can.” Matt and Foggy agreed.

“None of us, though?” Steve persisted, eyebrows raised.

“There’s no need,” Wanda answered. “Find me a suitable container to carry it in, and I need nothing else. I can remove the artifact from the wall without touching it. There would be nothing for the rest of you to do, and you would only draw attention.”

Steve pursed his lips, then nodded. “All right. But wear a comm, and keep me informed.”

“Of course.”

“I can find you a box,” Tony interjected. “How big do you think this thing is?”

Wanda cupped her hands a few inches apart. “Unless there is more of it buried beneath the surface. In that case…” she shrugged.

“I can work with that. Give me a minute.”

He left. Wanda got a comm from one of the kitchen cabinets, which apparently contained mission supplies rather than kitchen supplies, and put it in her ear.

When Tony returned, he carried a box about ten inches square. “We don’t know how this artifact of yours might interact with… anything, really. So.” Opening it, he showed them the empty interior, then dropped in a coin—which hung suspended in the center of the box, until he reached in and plucked it back out.

“Just a little something I’ve been tinkering with,” he told them. “The tech is built into the walls and floor of the box, just put in the artifact and it’ll stay suspended inside. If it turns out to be bigger than this, let me know and we’ll improvise.” He grinned.

“All right.” She turned to Karen, Matt and Foggy. “Let’s go.”

They took the elevator all the way down to the garage, where a car and driver waited for them, and exited the tower into afternoon midtown traffic.

When they arrived outside Josie’s, it took a little time to locate the artifact. A glance at the wall showed nothing at first. They spent some time working out just how far from the door Matt and Foggy had been standing, and at what height from the ground their hands had touched the wall. They examined the area closely, careful not to touch, and finally spotted it: a round shape, the same color as the wall, with the same dull surface as the surrounding bricks.

Wanda opened the box, and extended one hand toward the wall. Red lines trailed out from her fingers like crawling mist, and the others quickly formed a line behind her, shielding her from casual observation. There was a grinding sound as a little of the brickwork crumbled away, and then a sphere a little larger than a tennis ball floated free. Once free of the wall, it became colorless.

“It camouflages itself to match its surroundings,” Wanda reported to her comm. “It will fit in the box easily.” She guided it in, and the color and sheen changed again to match the interior of the box, making it nearly invisible. She closed the lid. “I have it secured,” she said. “We’re on our way back.”

By the time they got back to the tower, evening was approaching. Wanda took them to a guest suite, a self-contained apartment with three bedrooms.

“The common room where you met everyone is directly below, one floor down,” she told them. “You are welcome, but the rest of us will be in and out.”

“Yeah, of course,” said Foggy. “We interrupted your day, you must all have other stuff to do.”

“Training, mostly,” Wanda shrugged. “As Tony said, we are not busy right now. But some of us have only joined the team recently, and we need to learn how best to work together. Steve has been coming up with new tactics, to take advantage of the fact that so many of us can fly. So, we practice.” She smiled.

“I’ll be back later tonight, in time to test our theory, if I don’t see you sooner. If there’s anything you need that isn’t here, just ask. The AI that runs that building is Friday, she will answer if you speak to her, and she will know where to find us if you need us.” She left, taking the box with her.

Foggy made his way to a sofa in the living room and sat down. Matt went to the windows and stood looking out at the city. Karen explored the apartment, giving a running commentary as she went, to tell the men what she found.

There were pajamas in each bedroom, and neatly made up, queen-size beds. There were new toothbrushes in the bathroom. The kitchen was stocked with food and drinks, including an impressive array of alcohol. The living room contained a huge TV screen, which displayed a comprehensive library of film and television titles when she turned it on.

She turned it back off and sat down next to Foggy, feeling a little overwhelmed. So much had happened today, and she hadn’t had a chance until now to just sit and take it all in.

Foggy seemed to feel the same way. “Guys,” he said. “We’re in Avengers Tower. As if everything that happened this morning wasn’t enough. _Avengers Tower_.” He sounded a little dazed. “We have met the Avengers. Captain America shook our hands. Tony fucking _Stark_ knows who we are. How did this become my life?”

“We went to Josie’s, and a kid threw a basketball at our heads,” Matt answered drily from his spot by the windows.

Foggy laughed, and after a moment so did Matt and Karen, because it was all so unlikely that it suddenly seemed completely ridiculous. It felt good to laugh, and if the laughter had a slight hysterical edge to it, none of them cared.

“How are you holding up, Foggy?” Matt asked him, after they finally subsided.

“Pretty well,” Foggy answered. “This place has great soundproofing, I’m picking up much less noise than I did at your place.” Sounds from outside were muted almost to nothing. He could still hear the hum he’d first noticed outside, and various other mechanical sounds within the building, and just a faint whisper of people here and there inside. Their suite smelled clean, and impersonal, not unpleasantly. The building’s climate control stirred the air gently. The sofa he sat on was comfortable, its fabric soft under his hands. Some of the tension he’d been carrying all day flowed out of him as he leaned his head back with a sigh, and he felt himself relaxing in the quiet.

“I’m really good,” he said. “It’s nice in here. How about you, buddy?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying the view,” said Matt.

Karen went to stand beside him and looked out over Manhattan, across the East River to the wide expanse of Brooklyn.

“We can’t see Hell’s Kitchen from here,” she commented.

Matt smiled. “No. But it’s still one hell of a view.”

“Friday,” called Karen, on impulse.

“Yes, Miss Page?”

“Is there a room we can go into with a view to the west?”

“There is a vacant guest room on this level. Do you wish to move accommodation?”

“No, no. We’re very comfortable here. But we’d like to watch the sun set, it must be beautiful from up here.”

“Understood. From your suite, turn right down the corridor, and go in the second door on your left after you pass the elevators.”

“Foggy? You in?”

“Of course.” 

Following Friday’s directions, they found themselves in another furnished living room, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows all along one wall, this time facing west.

“You were right, Karen,” said Matt softly. “It’s beautiful.” The city looked quiet from this height, Hell’s Kitchen peaceful in the distance. Above the city, the clouds were turning pink as the sun sank toward the horizon, bathing everything in golden light. “I wish you could see it too, Foggy.”

“That’s okay. Assuming this works tonight, I’ll see other sunsets.” He reached for Matt’s hand. “If this is the only one you’re going to get, I’m glad it’s a good one.”

_Assuming this works tonight_ …Matt felt a poignant stab of hope mixed with regret, raising a lump in his throat. Karen took his other hand, and together they watched the sun set over New Jersey.

Once the sky was dark, they returned to their suite. Matt and Karen made dinner, while Foggy sat nearby so they could talk comfortably. They ate sitting on stools around the kitchen island, and afterward Foggy insisted on helping clean up.

“We’d be bad guests if we left dirty dishes in the sink, and this is one thing I _can_ do, I can tell by feel if things are clean or not.” So he washed the dishes, and Matt and Karen dried and put them away.

“What should we do tonight?” Karen asked, after they had returned to the living room and sat all together on the sofa. “Any movies you’d like to see, Matt?”

Matt considered. “You know, if I had my sight back permanently, sure, there’s probably lots of things I’d want to watch. But if it’s only for one day…” He looked at the two of them, sitting on either side of him. “I’d rather spend as much time as I can looking at my two favorite people.” His cheeks turned a little pink as he said it. “Although I’m seeing myself when I look at you, Fog. I need a mirror to actually see _you_.”

Foggy sat up straight. “Dude, not necessarily. I’ve got pictures on my phone. You brought my phone, didn’t you? Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Karen, what about you?”

“Yes, of course!” She pulled out her phone excitedly, and Matt got out Foggy’s.

“It’s too bad they’re so small,” Karen remarked, and looked at the big screen on the wall speculatively. “Friday, can we display pictures from our phones on the TV?”

And a few minutes later they had a repeating slideshow of both sets of photos on the screen. Friday obligingly sized the pictures as large as they could go without losing resolution. There were pictures of all three of them, separately and together, at work, in their respective apartments, and out together for fun. Happy pictures, some silly, some more serious—Karen had insisted on taking one of Matt and Foggy together, before the first time they appeared in court as partners.

“Guys, this is _fantastic_ ,” said Matt happily, smiling at each new picture as it appeared. “Thank you so much for thinking of it.” He described to Foggy the ones he particularly liked, and the ones that made him laugh out loud, pausing the display whenever he wanted to look at one more closely. But as the slide show repeated itself, he felt a stir of longing, and melancholy, mixing with his happiness. There were a few recent shots, but the bulk of the photos were from before his and Foggy’s rupture. Images of what they used to have, how they used to be.

“Did you take that one?” he asked Karen quietly, as a particular picture came on screen.

“Yes,” she answered, and told Foggy, “It’s the sign, after we got it installed outside. _Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law._ My safe place.”

“Your safe place?” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah. After everything I’d gone through right before you hired me? Definitely. That office felt like home. Like waking up after a bad dream. The pay was shit, but the work environment was the best I ever had.” She sounded wistful, even to herself, and stopped that train of thought. _Don’t spoil the mood_ , she told herself. “But it was the two of you who made it so great, and I’ve still got both of you,” she said firmly.

“Absolutely,” said Foggy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Matt.

They could both hear her determined cheerfulness, and knew what she was trying to avoid. They sat in thoughtful silence for a minute or two, as the slide show continued.

Then: “Do you want me to come back?” Foggy asked Matt. He didn’t sound worried, or hopeful, or anything at all other than curious to hear what Matt’s answer would be. Somehow, that made it easier for Matt to tell the truth, instead of deflecting.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “I do. I miss you. Professionally, as well as personally. I’d love to work with you again.” He put his hand over Foggy’s. “But I also want you to do what’s best for you. And we both know that coming back to me probably isn’t it.”

Foggy could hear the care Matt was putting into his words, as well as his sincerity. He could hear Karen’s heart pounding on the other side of Matt, could almost _feel_ the way she held herself still and silent, not interfering. He turned his hand palm up, so he could lace his fingers through Matt’s. He thought about all the good things about his current job—and all the bad things.

Matt squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s not the time to make any big, life-changing decisions, Foggy,” he said gently. “Leave it, for now. You know where to find me.”

“Yeah,” said Foggy, and squeezed back. “You’re right.” He shook off his serious mood, and grinned. “Tonight is for drinking Tony Stark’s liquor!”

Matt and Karen laughed, as he’d intended, and they all went to the kitchen for drinks. Deciding his future could wait.

They talked and laughed easily together. It was like last night, and yet not. The quiet, comfortable apartment contributed a different atmosphere than a dark, noisy dive bar. The fact that they were all three going to spend the night together here gave the evening a homey, domestic feel. And of course, Matt and Foggy were clearly closer than they had been twenty-four hours ago. The talk strayed over more personal topics than last night, comfortably, without strain.

They sat close to one another on the sofa, happy to be together, simply enjoying the present. But they didn’t forget how this evening was going to end. They carefully regulated their drinking, making sure they had about the same amount as last night, over the same period of time. And a sense of anticipation began to build as it got later. They were all thinking about what tomorrow might bring, but no one mentioned it. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

When Wanda returned, carrying the box, the feeling of anticipation intensified. She had timed her arrival well. It was nearly the time that they had left Josie’s last night, so there was no need to wait once she was there.

She set the box on the kitchen island, and told them her plan. “We cannot rely on you putting your hands in the right spot by chance. You will have to do it deliberately this time. Since you must touch it together, Matt, you will guide Foggy.” She opened the lid of the box. “Do you see the artifact?” she asked.

He looked carefully, and nodded.

“Good. Take Foggy’s hand. Touch the artifact when I tell you.”

Karen came to stand beside Wanda, where she could see their faces.

“Do we need to be startled?” Foggy asked.

“Leave that to me,” said Wanda. “Are you ready?”

They stood close together, facing the box, and lifted their joined hands.

“Ready,” said Matt, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Ready,” echoed Foggy. He could hear both of their hearts going like jackhammers.

Wanda stared intently at the air between them, and they both gasped and started slightly. “ _Now_ ,” she said. They reached forward together.

“You both have it?”

“Yes,” they chorused, feeling the smooth sphere under their fingers.

Wanda waited a few seconds, then pulled the box away. “There,” she said. “That is how long you touched it the first time. It’s done.”

For a moment, none of them knew quite what to say. They all knew that there wouldn’t be any immediate result, but it still felt like an anti-climax.

“Well,” Karen said finally, “nothing to do now but wait, I suppose. Should we get ready for bed?”

“We need to walk you home first,” said Matt with a smile.

Karen glanced at Wanda.

“I will stay, if I’m not intruding,” said Wanda. “In case any of you need help falling asleep. Once you are all sleeping, I’ll go.” She set the box, closed up and innocuous-looking, out of the way on the counter, and they all returned to the living room.

The slide show was still playing on the TV, and Matt stared earnestly at each picture, trying to commit them to memory. He was keenly aware that if all went according to plan, he now had only an hour or so of sight remaining before it was lost again, forever. He was eager to get back his other senses, and his own body, but it would still be a loss, there was no point denying it.

Wanda looked at the photos with interest, a small smile playing on her lips. “You care for each other so much, all of you,” she murmured. When they looked at her, she added, “I won’t try to tell you that it’s the only thing that matters, or even that it matters the most. You know better than that. But it _does_ matter.”

None of them said anything in reply, but they drew closer together on the sofa, legs touching, shoulder pressed against shoulder.

Twenty minutes more of quiet conversation, and then Karen reluctantly stood up. “Time for me to go, I think.”

“Already?” asked Foggy. “Don’t we need to touch the artifact first?”

Matt wore the same puzzled expression. Wanda smiled. “You have already forgotten. Good. So far, it’s working the same as it did last night.”

“So we did touch it?” asked Matt.

“That’s right,” Karen told him. “I didn’t touch you this time, so I remember. We’ve just talked through the time it took you to walk me home, so it’s time for me to say goodnight.”

“We’ll have to take your word for it,” said Foggy. He and Matt both stood. “Karen, thank you,” he went on, sounding very serious. “It was your idea to come here for help. If this works, it’ll be because of you.”

“It’ll be because of Wanda,” she countered.

“And you,” said Matt. “Wanda would never have known we even needed help, if you hadn’t convinced us to come here.”

“And we,” Wanda interjected, “would not have known about the artifact, or been able to remove it here out of harm’s way. Steve asked me to thank the three of you for bringing it to our attention.”

“There you go,” said Foggy. “ _Everyone_ thanks you, Karen.”

She blushed and smiled. “Well, everyone is welcome. I’m glad I could help. And I’m glad I could just be with both of you today, thank _you_ for calling me.” She hugged Foggy, held out a hand to Wanda, and then looked at Matt.

“Can I walk you to your door?” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered, and led the way out of the living room and down the hallway. There were two bedrooms on the right, the third one on the left next to the bathroom.

“We never chose our rooms,” Karen realized. “I guess I’ll take this one.” She moved toward the one on the left, and Matt followed her inside. Karen turned on the light, and then they just stood for a moment and looked at each other.

Matt could feel a lump of emotion rising in his throat. He reached out and cupped Karen’s face between his hands. “So…this is the last time I’ll ever see your face,” he said, his voice husky. He stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones, then pulled back his hands a little so his fingertips grazed her skin. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Touch my face? Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

He moved his fingers gently over her face. He'd done this before, often, but now for once he could look at her at the same time, joining sight to touch to try and set her features more firmly in his memory. When he was finished, he slid his hands into her hair, watching the pale strands slip through his fingers, and finally brought his hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, stepping in close to hug him. He held her for a long moment, knowing he had to leave, that this evening needed to end. He pulled back reluctantly, and looked at her one last time.

“If you want to,” she offered, seeing his reluctance, “You can look in again after I’m asleep. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to smile.

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I love you,” she said, hoping as much emotion as possible showed in her expression. Judging by the way his face lit up, it did.

“I love you, too,” he answered, and they smiled at each other.

Matt took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. He put his hand over hers where it still rested on his cheek, turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. “Goodnight,” he said softly, letting go and backing toward the door.

“Goodnight,” she answered, holding his gaze until he sighed, turned away resolutely, and walked back to the living room.

Karen sighed too, suddenly feeling worn out and ready to go to bed. She changed into pajamas, and slipped quietly into the bathroom to brush her teeth and use the toilet, hearing the faint murmur of voices from the living room. Once back in her room, she turned the lights down to a dim glow, and pulled the door closed but not latched. She got into bed, and was quickly asleep.

Matt returned to the living room. Leaving Karen had been hard, but knowing that Foggy was waiting for him made it easier. And now he had only a brief time left with Foggy, before his day of sight was well and truly over.

“What a day,” he said, sitting down on the sofa and resting his head against the high back.

Foggy made a sound of agreement, non-verbal but heartfelt. “You spent half of it teaching me how to manage being blind,” he remarked. “If this works, that’ll have been wasted effort.”

“Will it?” Matt asked softly.

And no, of course it wasn’t, really. Foggy now understood Matt so much better—both by having experienced for himself how his senses actually worked, and by having finally cleared the air in a conversation they never would have had under different circumstances. If Matt hadn’t helped him gain some measure of control over the chaos, none of that would have been possible. He would have spent the day overwhelmed, barely able to function.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s not wasted at all.” He gave Matt a little smile, and made the worst joke he could think of: “It’s been a real eye-opener, for sure.”

“Ugh, Foggy…”

“I see things now in a whole new light,” he continued, determined to end the evening on a cheerful note. “I’ve been so blind to what you were going through.” As humor went it was pretty weak, but he could hear Matt trying not to laugh, and that was what mattered.

They talked happily for a little longer, and then Matt checked the time and sighed. “It’s almost midnight, Cinderella,” he said lightly.

“Let’s hope neither of us turns into a pumpkin,” Foggy answered solemnly.

They both stood up, and turned to Wanda, sitting unobtrusively in a corner.

“We’ll see you in the morning?” asked Foggy.

“Yes. Sleep well, both of you.” She withdrew to the kitchen, giving them a semblance of privacy.

Matt walked over to the windows for a last look at the city, now a vast sea of artificial light, and Foggy came with him.

“One day of sight,” Foggy said. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to do more with it.”

Matt shrugged. “No matter what I did, there would always be something I’d missed. Maybe I could have seen more.” He smiled. “But if the things I _have_ seen today stay with me, if I can remember it all for the future, I’ll be happy. I saw the sky again, and a beautiful sunset. I saw the city, down on the street and up here. I saw the people I love.”

Foggy could hear the emotion in his voice, and felt a lump in his own throat. His experiences today hadn’t been all bad, but still, he was looking forward to getting his own body back with almost completely unmitigated relief. For Matt, he knew, it was more complicated. He’d just spent a day being reminded of what he’d been missing for most of his life.

At a loss for words, Foggy reached out and put an arm around him. When Matt turned toward him, he wrapped his other arm around him too, and pulled him in. Matt sighed out a long breath and returned the hug, sliding his arms around Foggy and resting his head on Foggy’s shoulder. He held on for a long moment before he stepped back, and if he sniffed a little, Foggy didn’t remark on it. 

They walked together to the hallway.

“Do you want to go first in the bathroom?” Matt asked. “I’m just going to look in on Karen, she said she didn’t mind if I wanted to take a look after she was asleep.”

“Okay, sure.” Foggy tipped his head, listening. “I’m pretty sure she’s asleep, go ahead.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

The door to Karen’s room was barely ajar. He pushed it open silently and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and once his eyes adjusted he could see her well enough. She lay curled loosely on her side, and he walked over and crouched down by the side of the bed, so his head was on a level with hers and he could look into her face.

This was the view of her he’d never seen, the times she’d slept beside him. Her face was soft and still, her long hair tumbled over the pillows. Her beautiful, expressive eyes were shuttered and secret. He could hear her breathing, heavy and slow, and the familiar sound soothed him. He felt himself relaxing, finally ready to let go of this day and sleep.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom next door, but she didn’t stir. Matt smiled at her, and whispered “Goodnight,” under his breath, and stood up to go. He left her room just as Foggy was leaving the bathroom.

“Which room do you want?” Matt asked quietly.

Foggy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. This one, I guess.” He nodded toward the nearest door, but made no move to go in. Matt didn’t move either.

“Are you all right?” Foggy asked. It seemed a very inadequate question under the circumstances, but he couldn’t think of any way to improve it.

“I’m fine,” said Matt. “I’m going to miss this, of course. But…” He moved closer, so they were almost touching. “I’ve been using your eyes all day, Fog. It’s time to give them back to you.”

Something in his voice made Foggy tip his head and listen carefully. “You don’t…feel bad about having my eyes, do you, Matt?” He felt a slight warmth flush Matt’s cheeks. “Dude, no. Are you feeling guilty about something you had absolutely no control over?”

“Um. Maybe a little?” Matt answered sheepishly.

“Ugh, _Matt_. C’mere.” Once more, Foggy pulled him into a tight hug. “ _Catholic_ ,” he said in Matt’s ear, and Matt smiled against his shoulder.

When they stepped apart, Matt gestured toward the bedroom and asked, “Do you need any help?”

Foggy went to the doorway and considered the room. “What’s the layout?” he asked.

Matt looked in. “Bed straight ahead, against the far wall. Dresser to your right. I assume pajamas are in the dresser.”

“Okay, thanks. I should be fine. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Okay. G’night, buddy.”

“Night, Matt.”

Matt turned toward the bathroom, and Foggy went into his room and closed the door. He felt his way over to the dresser and found pajamas, changed and got into bed. He wondered if his enhanced senses would keep him awake, but he was very tired and soon fell asleep.

After Matt had finished in the bathroom, he stood looking earnestly into the mirror. He ran his fingers over his own features again, as he had done in the morning. Finally he sighed, and smiled, and raised a hand to touch the glass. “Goodnight, Fog,” he whispered to his reflection.

He went into the last remaining bedroom, feeling drained. He put on pajamas, got into bed, and was soon asleep.


	8. Waking, again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of happy fluff to wrap things up. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it!

Karen woke up and stretched. She felt sleepy and comfortable, and was tempted to just roll over and see if she could go back to sleep. What time was it? She opened her eyes—and abruptly remembered the events of the day before. She sat up and checked the time. It was 7:30, still early for a Sunday. She listened carefully, but heard no signs that the others were awake yet.

She got up and opened her door. The two bedrooms across the hall were closed and silent. She left her door open, and returned to bed. She wanted them to wake up—she couldn’t wait to find out if Matt and Foggy were themselves again—but she didn’t want to wake them. Things had to be allowed to play out as they had the first time. She was just going to have to wait until they woke up on their own.

She snuggled into her blankets and thought about everything that had happened. She was elated by how well the boys were getting along last night; that talk they’d had while she was out getting lunch seemed to have worked a small miracle. But today, assuming things were back to normal, would be the real test. How would they behave toward each other—how would Foggy, especially, behave toward Matt, now that the crisis was over?

Obviously, the most important thing was that they get their own bodies back. But she couldn't help hoping they would have their friendship back, intact, as well. She knew Matt wanted Foggy back. But did Foggy want Matt? Could they be again as inseparable as they’d been when Karen first met them? Or, maybe more realistically, as close as they’d been after Foggy forgave Matt the first time? Could he, did he want to, forgive again?

Karen had forgiven Matt once. Could she do it again, if he let her down a second time? She loved him, but she was no angel of mercy. Foggy, though, was a truly good person. He had an endlessly big heart, and Matt had had a place in that heart for a significant chunk of both their lives. They were both happier when they had each other, anyone could see that. Was it enough?

One of the doors across the hall quietly opened, and Karen sat up. “Hello?” she called softly.

* * * *

Matt woke up, and knew at once that the experiment had worked. His heartbeat thumped steadily in his ears. He could hear Foggy in the room next door, still asleep, and Karen across the hall, awake but quiet and still. It was strangely quiet otherwise, but he remembered Foggy mentioning that yesterday. The building hummed softly to itself, and sounds from outside were barely audible. The bedsheets felt coarse against his skin, while his nose told him he could probably use a shower. And when he opened his eyes…nothing.

He raised his hands to his face, feeling a need to verify, and felt the familiar lines of his own jaw, now covered in two days’ worth of stubble, and his own short hair. He stretched, and ran his fingers over a few of his scars, and smiled. Beyond any doubt, he was back in his own body.

And Karen was already awake, and probably impatient to know if it had worked. He got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. For just a moment he felt disoriented—he’d gone to sleep in the room directly across from Karen’s, but the room he’d just left was the one across from the bathroom. But of course it was, he should have expected that. He heard Karen’s soft “Hello?” and hurried to her door.

Karen looked hopefully at the man in her doorway. “Matt?” she asked, his beaming smile giving her the answer even before he nodded. She smiled back in relief, flinging her arms wide and flopping back onto the pillows. He crossed to the bed and climbed in beside her, and she pulled him close and kissed him soundly, morning breath be damned.

Matt was enveloped once more by all the sounds and smells and textures that meant _Karen_ , heartbeat and warm skin and soft hair, the complex smell of her, and even the stale taste of her mouth was familiar and welcome. He wrapped his arms around her, and she shifted her body to fit more snugly against him, tangling their legs together.

“Welcome back,” she said happily when they came up for air.

“It’s good to be back,” he answered, sliding one hand into her hair, brushing it back from her face and playing with the silky strands.

She made a small contented sound, and tucked her face into the curve of his neck and shoulder. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, “Is it hard, losing your sight again?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course it is. But it’s not nearly as bad as it was the first time. I knew this time what I’d be getting back in exchange. And I really did miss all this yesterday.” He pressed his nose to her head and breathed in the scent of her hair, and brought his hand down to rest over her heart. “That’s what I never realized, when I used to wish I could see again. How much I would miss my other senses. Now that I’ve actually experienced it…it’s easier to accept what I’ve lost.” He kissed her forehead, and repeated, “It’s good to be back.”

“I’m glad,” she murmured.

“And getting to have that day, one day to see again, was wonderful once I got used to it,” he went on. “I feel lucky to have had that. I hope I never forget the things I saw.” He brushed his fingers gently over her cheek.

Suddenly he tipped his head, listening. “Foggy’s awake,” he said with a smile.

* * * *

Foggy woke up and opened his eyes. He froze for an instant, taking in the sight of a room he’d never seen before with a creeping feeling of unease. But a second later he remembered where he was and why, and realized the experiment had worked. A huge, relieved grin split his face as he looked down at his own body, patting his belly affectionately, reaching up to feel his long hair and brush it back out of his eyes.

“I’m back,” he said quietly. He wanted to yell, and laugh, but he didn’t know if anyone else was awake yet. He got up, filled with energy, and went to the door. 

The doors of both the other bedrooms stood open, and as soon as he stepped into the hall he heard Matt call, “Foggy?”

“Matt!”

“We’re in here, Foggy,” Karen called.

They were in the room right across from his. All he had to do was take another step, and he could see them, snuggled up together under the covers.

“Are you decent?” he asked, but he wasn’t really worried.

“Of course,” Karen laughed. “Come in!”

They both sat up as Foggy clambered up over the foot of the bed and knelt on the mattress in front of them. He couldn’t stop smiling. He felt full of relief like a bottle full of champagne, happiness bubbling inside him like he might burst. He looked at them fondly, the sight of Matt with his bed hair and sleepy eyes reminding him powerfully of college. He reached forward and gripped Matt’s knee through the blankets.

“You all right, buddy?”

“Yeah, fine, back to normal.”

“But are you all right?”

Matt smiled, realizing what Foggy was asking. “I’m okay, Foggy. Sorry to lose what I had, but glad to get back what I was missing.”

“Okay. Good. So everything’s fine, then?” 

Karen looked at him suspiciously, seeing a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Everything’s fine,” Matt confirmed cautiously, hearing the same note in his voice.

“Good,” Foggy repeated, before he suddenly launched himself forward, tackling Matt back down to the bed, releasing his pent-up energy in a gleeful yell. Matt fell back with an undignified squawk, but he quickly retaliated, seizing a pillow and smacking Foggy.

Laughing maniacally, Foggy grabbed the other pillow, but overbalanced as he swung it and hit Karen by mistake. She grabbed Matt’s pillow, the light of battle kindling in her eyes, and then it was _on_. Three people fighting for possession of two pillows, pummeling each other mercilessly, laughing and swearing and surging back and forth all over the bed.

Eventually they collapsed, panting and giggling, into a breathless, happy tangle of arms and legs and bedding. They lay catching their breath, feeling their pounding hearts gradually slow back to normal. And even after they had recovered, none of them made any move to disentangle themselves. They just lay together quietly, limp and relaxed and utterly content.

Foggy couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy. It was as if a cloud had lifted, as if something that had been wrong for months was finally right again. In the last twenty-four hours, his guarded, careful truce with Matt had melted into something warmer, potentially messier, but much more satisfying. There was no denying the complications and worry that Matt seemed to bring inevitably in his wake, but Foggy could see now that his life was much colder and duller without Matt in it.

“Man, I need a shower,” he said cheerfully. “I’m all sweaty.”

“We all are,” said Karen. “There’s a very fancy shower in our bathroom, I’m going to go use it at some point. But not yet.” She settled herself more comfortably.

“No, not yet,” Foggy agreed. “Matt, I bet you’re not sweaty. I bet that epic battle didn’t even leave you winded, did it?”

Matt grinned. “A little.”

“A little,” Foggy repeated. “I was puffing like a steam engine. You know what? I don’t even care. I’m so glad to be back in my own body, I am not bothered at all by the fact that you’re fitter than both of us put together.”

“Pfffft, speak for yourself,” Karen interjected. 

“I actually checked to make sure, when I woke up,” Foggy went on. “I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that it had worked, but I still checked to make sure I was in the right body.”

“So did I,” Matt admitted.

“And let me tell you, I’ve never been so happy to see my big old belly before.”

“It’s a nice belly,” said Matt. “Very comfortable. I won’t hear a word against the belly I fell asleep on, the first time we ever got drunk together.”

“Dude, you remember that?” Foggy asked, startled.

“Sure,” said Matt, his ears turning slightly pink. “I had the bed to myself when I woke up, but I wasn’t too hung over to notice it was your bed, or to remember how I got there.”

Karen raised her eyebrows, and rolled over to rest her chin on her hands on Matt’s chest. “Do tell,” she said, intrigued.

“We went to a party,” Matt explained, smiling at the memory. “And by the time we got home we were _very_ drunk, just staggering around and holding each other up. Once we got in the door we both collapsed onto Foggy’s bed, and fell asleep.”

“The next morning, I woke up first,” Foggy continued. “With him on top of me. I thought it might be awkward,” he said to Matt, “if I was still there when you woke up. So I managed to ease out of bed without waking you, and dragged my hungover ass off to take a shower—oh god. _Did_ I wake you? Were you just pretending to sleep through me extricating myself?”

“No, no,” Matt assured him. “I was out cold until a noise woke me. One of the guys next door was fighting with his girlfriend, and she stormed out and slammed the door, and then kept yelling at him all the way down the hall.” He winced at the memory.

“Ah, dorm life,” said Foggy reminiscently.

“I managed to stagger over to my own bed and collapsed again,” Matt continued, “and when you came back from the shower you didn’t say anything about it, so I didn’t either.”

“When I came back from the shower, you said ‘I think I’m dying,’ and pulled your pillow over your head. He didn’t get up until three hours later,” he told Karen.

“You’ve spent a day with my senses,” said Matt. “Imagine what an enhanced hangover feels like.”

“Oh,” said Foggy, his eyes getting wide. “Oh, god. You must have actually felt like you were dying. Dude.”

From across the apartment, they heard a knock on the front door.

“Friday, who is it?” asked Karen.

“Miss Maximoff.”

“We should let her in,” Karen said, reluctant to move.

“Friday, can you let her in?” asked Matt.

“Certainly.”

The door opened, and a moment later they heard Wanda call “Hello?”

“We’re all back here, Wanda,” Karen answered. “Come on in.”

Wanda did, coming to stand in the bedroom doorway and raising her eyebrows at the wildly disordered bed, and the haphazard pile of people on it.

“Pillow fight,” Foggy explained helpfully.

“I see,” said Wanda, amused. “Who won?”

“We all did, I think,” said Matt happily.

Wanda smiled. “And you are yourselves again?”

“Yes!” Foggy said, with deep satisfaction. “I’’m Foggy, and that handsome devil is Matt.”

Matt snorted softly, but he was smiling.

“Wonderful,” said Wanda. “The others will be pleased to hear it. There is breakfast below in the common room, if you’d like to join us.”

“Thank you,” said Karen. “We could use a little time to clean up, though…”

“There’s no rush. It’s very casual, everyone shows up when they want. And there’s plenty of food. Tony tends to overdo things, even Sunday brunch.”

“Why am I not surprised?” asked Foggy.

“We’ll be down in a while,” Matt said.

Wanda smiled at them again. “Good. Then I’ll see you soon. Don’t let me disturb you, I’ll let myself out.” She turned and left.

“Brunch with the Avengers,” said Foggy. “No big deal, just a perfectly normal Sunday morning.”

“Are you looking forward to meeting them again, now that you can see?” asked Karen.

“Absolutely,” said Foggy. “But like the lady said, there’s no rush. This right here is pretty nice, too. I’m in no hurry.”

“Me, neither,” said Matt softly. Karen’s heart soared.

“I’m pretty comfortable, myself,” she agreed. She was actually starting to feel hungry, and she knew that soon, it would be time to move. Soon, they would get up, try out the fancy shower, get dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and go out to meet whatever the day might bring. But for the moment, she was happy. They were all happy, together, right where they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Holy crap, almost 29,000 words, I'm kind of shocked. This is not only the longest thing I've ever written, it's the longest by a huge margin. Thank you so much to all of you who stuck with me to the end. I appreciate the kudos and the kind words, and I also appreciate everyone who just decided this was worth their time and read it.


End file.
